


A Vacancy

by Mylifeisaverage



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Summer Vacation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, miyakojima, skirt!kenma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mylifeisaverage/pseuds/Mylifeisaverage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence, I’ve mastered. I’m naturally quiet, but I've gone completely unresponsive to anything and everything. I didn’t mean to, but it had gotten so bad that, I’d found myself with no one at all. And though I longed to cry out, scream for help, I’d long forgotten how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turning to Stone

**Author's Note:**

> oh my fucking god ao3 deleted a vacancy last night and that's why no one read the new chapter. *sweating profusely while trying to fix it*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dedicating this, and all of my _Haikyuu!!_ works to come, to Kazunari Tanaka; the voice of Coach Ukai. He died Monday October 10th 2016 from a rare hemorrhage in his brain stem. Be well, and thank you for what you've given us. 
> 
> \- suzume. 
> 
> (11/10/2016)

Listening to the rain beat down on my windows, I stared at Link through the barrier of my DS. He was holding a barrel over his head, looking vaguely triumphant after breaking into a house and ransacking the place. He probably devastated the people who lived in this little cottage. They’ll probably live with the fear of being robbed forever, but Link doesn’t seem to care: he had a barrel, and he was holding it over his head.

I closed my DS, not even bothering to save my game even though I’d finally beaten the Water Temple for the millionth time. I didn’t care. I felt none of the same calmness I usually feel when I play Ocarina of Time, or any other game for that matter. And that’s the second I realized:

_I don’t want to do this_

I know it sounds sudden, but so much has built up in my system, this was just my breaking point. I couldn’t do this anymore. I’m wasting away and I’m only eighteen. All I do is play videogames, and take up space at school. Yes, I played volleyball for a split second, but they never needed me. Never wanted me there. 

I’ve always wanted to be like Link; silent, enduring, only doing what was right even if it was hard. But what if he really _didn’t_ want this? What if it was too much? Did he get anxious? Was he ever afraid? Did he ever want to give up, throw in the towel..? Maybe all of his running around, fishing, and ransacking was meaningless. There’s no message. No one ever asks him if he wanted to save Hyrule, Zelda says she’s grateful but isn’t grateful enough to be more careful next time, it’s just an endless cycle. I’m caught in a cycle too. I wake up, go to school, come home, and go to bed, videogame breaks aside. Maybe that’s all there is for me. No real direction, no purpose, just mindless, repeated adventures in a virtual world. 

Having been staring at my ceiling, I rolled onto my side, putting my feet on the floor beside my bed. It was dark, storming pretty hard. But through the torrents of rain, I could see into my neighbor's window. His name is Kuroo, we used to be pretty close but I haven’t talked to him in years. I held loosely to a curtain as I watched him through the rain. He was sprawled out on his bed, laughing into a phone he’d trapped between his ear and his shoulder. He seemed happy.

We grew up together, he was more social than I was and always made it his goal to get me to go out and do things. He’d convinced me to play volleyball at the park for the first time, and though I didn’t particularly enjoy it, I liked the belonging and he liked my participation. He knows everything about me. He knows my favorite games, my favorite foods, he even knows about my Social Anxiety, and my being asexual. But high school started and I was weird, awkward, even a little creepy. It would’ve ruined his image to be seen with me. So that was the end of our friendship. Now here he is, probably talking to some girl or a member of the Nekoma Volleyball Team. I sighed, barely realizing that I’d stopped breathing momentarily. I looked through my window at Kuroo once more, placing my palm against the glass. 

“Goodbye.”

I closed the curtain, though I knew he couldn’t see me. My lights were off, my room was dark. I turned to my desk, crossing the room to open the top drawer. In it, at the top of a pile of junk, was a piece of paper folded up into a neat square. Flipping on the desk lamp, I sat down to read it. 

_Mother,_

_I’m so sorry. I know you probably think you failed me. I know you blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault. Some people weren’t meant to live long lives. Some are too anxious, too unresponsive, too strange… I wish I could do it, mom, I really do. But I wasn’t supposed to live a long life. You are so understanding. You’re the best mother anyone could ask for. I love you so much._

_\-- Kozume Kenma_

I wrote this months ago, and I had cried my eyes out. It’s a little sparse, but it’s all I have to say. I love my mom. She’s everything to me. Some even say I look like her, sharing cat-like bronze colored eyes and dark hair. I was proud of that, looking like my mom. Or at least until the kids at school started picking on me about it. And I wanted to fit in so badly that I begged her to let me dye my hair. She was skeptical of course, seeing me as her beautiful son that didn’t need any enhancement. But blond I became, in the spirit of Link. I hadn’t factored in that my hair would grow in black, though. And managed to get myself called “Pudding-head” instead of “Mama’s boy”. 

I did my best to smooth out the creases in my note, laying it flat on the desk where anyone could see it. Inside the drawer, just under where the note had been, was a razorblade. Small, easily concealed, easily forgotten, but easily remembered. And I remembered vividly. 

My first attempt had been a disaster. I was too scared, too emotional, and too obvious. My mom ran into my room, having heard me sobbing, to discover me in my bed with a handful of my anxiety medication. She’d taken me to the hospital to get my head examined. And I learned a thing or two about suicide from the other patients in Psyche Ward. Now I was ready. Calm. Collected. And about to slit my wrists when the wind blew open my window. The curtains billowed up, suspended in the air as cold rain poured into my room. I rolled my eyes, sitting at my desk for a moment before standing to close the window again. I held tight to the windows, fighting against the air to bring them together again when something caught my eye: a silhouette. I looked up, into the darkness that had taken me by surprise. 

“Oh hey, Kenma!” Kuroo’s voice carried over, even through a storm, “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” He stood at his window, still on the phone. Warm, golden light illuminated the side of my house, including my window and I. I responded with a blank stare, remaining silent until his sarcastic smirk fell into an awkward frown. “What’s wrong?” 

_What **is** wrong?_

“Are you happy?” I asked, watching his face get even more confused. He whispered his phone conversation to an end like he cared at all to have a conversation with me. 

“Yeah I guess, why?” 

“I’m not.” I shrugged, closing the windows. I heard him stutter out a “wait,” but I couldn’t. Not while I had the courage to do this. I didn’t cry, didn’t feel sad, didn’t feel anxious. I was ready. 

With the razorblade in hand, I mapped out where I’d have to cut, tracing down the center of my forearm with my thumb. Blue blood pulsed back to my heart, turned red, then returned unaware of my intentions. I shivered, breathing raggedly as I lined up the blade. It would cut through a decent amount of the veins and arteries in my arm, I’d bleed out, and I’d be dead. Surely it’s that simple, right? I was beginning to press down on the razorblade when a heavy knock on the door startled me. 

“I’ll get it!” Mom called from downstairs, heading for the door. 

_Who is that?! Is it Kuroo? No, it couldn’t be. He hasn’t just come over in years. But what if it is!? No No No. Relax Kenma, don’t think. Just do._

I concentrated on my arm as my anxiety revved up my heartbeat. I can do this. I _will_ do this. Nothing can stop me. 

“Kenma, come downstairs! Kuroo’s here to see you!” Mom’s voice sang, pleasantly surprised at his visit and immediately began to dote on him. “Are you hungry? You’re soaked, where’s your umbrella? Would you like to stay the night? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Sweat formed and froze on my neck, making me shiver as I stared downward, willing my hand to finish the job. I tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat, but the pressure was too strong and a frantic sob slipped quietly out of my mouth. 

“That’s alright, don’t worry about me. I’m just going to check on him if that’s okay with you.” 

_No!_

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, the panic clear in my voice. I pressed harder into my flesh, digging the sharp end of the blade into my wrist and nicking the first few layers of skin. 

“Kenma! Watch your mouth!” Mom yelled, most likely crossing her arms. Heavy footsteps marched up the stairs, each one closer than the last. My heart beat out of my chest, freeing huge tears and letting them stream down my eyes. With a frightened squeak, I closed my eyes and dragged the razor up my arm, creating an enormous, bleeding gash. _No… pain?_ I thought briefly. My arm stood open, bleeding profusely. So much that I’d already began to feel dizzy. With my vision starting to swim, I placed the blade at the top of my other arm, pressing down with all of my might and pulling upward, creating an identical gash running up this arm. I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath. 

“Kenma? Kenma…?” Kuroo pushed open my door, peeking around the corner to see me, holding a bloodied razorblade with two huge, fatal wounds in my forearms. I slowly turned my gaze up, looking at him through my eyelashes. 

“I feel much better now,” I whispered, feeling relieved weakness flood my senses. Blood collected in pools all around me, spotting the floor, my clothes, and my skin with red freckles. The edges of my vision darkened into a vignette, spreading inward. It became harder to breathe, harder to think, harder to see. But I could make out Kuroo’s body hastening to me, lifting me up and out of my desk chair. I could barely register Mom’s face through her hands that tried to protect her, shield her from what I’ve done. 

One thing a child should never hear is their mother scream. It’s almost unimaginable to think your mom could feel so scared, so confused, or so hurt that she couldn’t release the pressure in any other way. My mother was terrified, agonized, seeing me in Kuroo’s arms. Seeing the pain in her eyes, identical to mine, triggered the pain inside me. Every weakening beat of my heart pushed more blood out of my forearms through exhausted, overworked arteries. Every drop of blood I lost burned like the fires of Hell. Every movement sent new shocks of pain up my spine. But the darkness still came, swallowing me whole. And though Kuroo and my mother did their best, everything faded to black.


	2. EKG

_beep...beep...beep...beep…_

A heart monitor droned on, counting regular, uniform heartbeats. Plastic tubes that met just under my nose rubbed uncomfortably against my cheeks. My joints felt too stiff to move, nevermind how dead my legs were. My eyelids peeled apart but closed again at the glaring, harsh florescent lights shining directly into my eyes. A small pained squeak vibrated from within my throat, accidentally announcing my consciousness. _Where am I?_ I thought, _Is this death?_ I tried to sit up, but moving my arms made me hiss. I looked down, seeing thick, white bandages wrapped tightly around my wrists. Seeing them triggered a wave of memory, all the emptiness I’d felt leading up to this point suddenly came back to me. 

_I failed._

“Kenma, you’re awake,” a deep, rough voice called out to me from my right, breaking the silence. I gasped, turning sharply to see who it was. Kuroo slouched in a chair, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He smiled at me with tired eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Why are you here, Tetsurou,” I asked rather monotonously. I didn’t even try to make it sound like a question. I don’t get angry very much, now was one of those rare moments. Kuroo’s smile melted into a frown, knowing full well what I meant. He ran a hand through his hair, screwing it up more than it usually is. He’s always had the same bedhead, that much never changed. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said with his tail between his legs, “You gave me a real scare, Kenma, I never knew you were so sad.” 

“That much is obvious,” I said ambiguously, not even bothering to look at him anymore. I looked out the window to my left, more rain. Though instead of angry, black storm clouds, the world outside had condensed and fogged over. There was only one thing I wanted explained before I was comfortable in telling him to leave, however. 

“Why did you come last night.” I said, my question catching him off guard. It was strange seeing him like this, he was always so confident and outspoken. And now he found it difficult to even look at me. He would glance at my face for a moment, then glance at my bandaged arms, undoubtedly remembering what my fresh mutilations looked like. His eyes would skitter away, then he would try to repeat the process after a few long seconds of mental preparation. 

“I was worried,” he replied as if it were obvious, “you’ve always been a deep one, Kenma, but you’ve never asked me if I was happy. Especially not like that.” 

“Okay,” I dismissed, hoping he’d just go away. I couldn’t even look at him, afraid I might break down. My mind was chanting, _He’s lying, I’m sure of it. He’s lying, I’m sure of it._ It was easier to assume he didn’t care about me, that he just felt sorry for me, and this was a one-time thing. It saved me the pain of trying to figure out _why? Why now? What’s different about now?_ I could feel myself getting anxious, overthinking things, but who’s to say they aren’t true? Just because my way of thinking is a little panicked, who can say I’m not right?

I stared down at my arms, sucking in shaky breaths as I tried to calm myself. But with Kuroo sitting right here, all I could think about was how lonely I really am. 

He called my name, seeing my pupils shrink as a panic attack gathered it’s strength in my head. When I didn’t answer, he cautiously reached over, placing a hand on my shoulder. And when I flinched, he pulled the hand back like he’d been burned. 

After several seconds of staring at me, he sighed and exclaimed, “God, what happened to us? Please, Kenma, just talk to me! Don’t treat me like a stranger!” His voice raised steadily until he was just below a shout, grumbling at me with frustration.

“I had to slit my wrists for you to say that to me,” I blurted out before I could think about the possible outcomes. I had nothing left to lose, so I just went with it. Balling my hands into fists, I stared down at my arms, “I’m hurting, Kuroo. You were my only friend, and you abandoned me for high school popularity.”

“Kenma--”

“I had _no one_ for two years! Why would you do that!?” The sheets covering the tops of my knees were quickly stained with hot tears that rolled off my nose. I was sobbing poisonous words I’d kept bottled up for too long. I lifted my heavy head so our eyes could meet. “I know I got in your way a lot. But you didn’t need to forget me. I-- I don’t feel _anything_ anymore!” 

“I’m sorry, Kenma.” Kuroo’s voice interrupted my thoughts a they quickly spiralled out of control. I hated to cry. I truly did. But this was it, the realization I needed to come to, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

I Feel Nothing.

“It’s hard for you to make friends on your own. I know that. I’ve always known that, but I still abandoned you. I never even noticed how lonely you got and it was my job to make sure you weren’t and I let you down.” I listened to Kuroo struggle to explain himself in such a short amount of time, but couldn’t speak over the sobs that rolled around in my chest. He left an expectant silence, like he wanted me to say something, but no words could come. I’d forgotten how to talk to him the day he chose to forget about me. 

“I’m gonna go find your mom,” he said after realizing that I wasn’t going to answer.

* * *

I’ve discovered that morphine makes me sleepy. The higher I pushed up on the dial that controls my dosage, the more lethargic I felt. I gave the dial a final roll to the highest possible setting before my eyelids got too heavy and I was coaxed into a dreamless dreamland. I was warm and safe in the arms of peaceful, drug-induced sleep. And when I awoke, I saw a graceful woman with expressive golden eyes and long dark hair chatting with Kuroo and presumably my doctor just outside my room, Mom.

“If he agrees, I think it would be the best course of action regarding young Kenma’s recovery. He needs someone to rely on that isn’t Kozume-san, here. We have to focus on improving his interpersonal skills. You have to be willing to donate all of your time to rebuilding your relationship with him, Kuroo. He may relapse and--” 

“He’s awake.” My eyes drifted over to lock with Kuroo’s after hearing his voice. Mom had her fingers laced together over her mouth, fending off tears. She whipped around, seeing me through the window before darting in through the door and to my side. 

“Kenma, baby, you’re awake,” she sighed softly, her gold eyes sparkling, “Are you feeling okay?” She was still so young, some would say _too_ young to have a son as old as eighteen. She held tightly to my hand, pressing it to her heart as she gazed into me, smiling her smile so familiar. 

“How long was I asleep?” I asked quietly, trying to smile just the smallest bit for her. She saw my efforts, bringing up one of her hands to brush the hair from my eyes.

“Just a few hours,” she replied, pouring all her love into me with the way she looked. 

“I’m so sorry, Mom…” I whispered, feeling tears prickle my eyes, “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Her smile only grew as I broke down, whimpering in my hospital bed, clinging to my mother. 

“I forgive you, baby, I forgive you,” she cooed, stroking my hand. Crystalline teardrops slid down her cheeks as she held me. “Oh Kenma, why didn’t you tell me? We tell each other everything.” Her voice faltered. She closed her eyes, smiling as she shook the negative thoughts away. “It’s over now, baby. You’re here with me and that’s all that matters.” She ran her fingers through my hair, wiped away my tears, hushed my quiet broken sobbing. 

“I love you, Mom,” I sighed, having long forgotten the presence of Kuroo and the doctor. But they, having become antsy standing against the wall, made themselves known. 

“I’m glad you’re awake, Kenma,” my doctor, a tall silver-haired man crossed the room to stand beside my mother. “There are a few things we’d like to discuss with you. I’m Dr. Yanagi.” He introduced himself to me bowing his head as he did so. I stared up and spoke not, nodding my head respectfully. Kuroo stood to the side, watching me hopefully, looking like he had a thousand different things to say and was trying so hard to hold them all in. 

“Baby, the three of us have an idea,” Mom started, licking her lips like she does when she’s focused or anxious, “We only want what’s best for you. Can you hear us out?” I looked into her eyes that matched mine, that stood out like clear pools that reflected her thoughts and feelings. She was unable to lie, and her intentions were always true. I nodded my head, allowing her to speak for everyone in the room. 

“I’ll listen.”

“Kuroo is going to Okinawa, baby, to Miyako. He’s staying in a cabin by the beach. Dr. Yanagi’s partner has an office on the island. He’s a psychiatrist, Dr. Madoka. And we all think it would be best if you joined for summer vacation.” She finished strong, voicing their opinions clearly and not beating around the bush. I, on the other hand, was not as strong.

“Y-You mean leave?” I stammered, feeling the blood drain from my face as the heart monitor’s beeping sped up. “I can’t just go, what if I need you? What if I get anxious? What if--” Quickly, Mom swept me into her arms, hugging the torrent of questions right out of me, though my heart still beat like a jackrabbit. 

“Kenma, baby, shhhh…” she whispered, “it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all here to help you.” She ran her fingers through my hair, calming the light tremors from my muscles. As my breathing slowed back down, I looked up at Kuroo through my lashes. His shoulders sagged in defeat, dark eyes losing some of their luster as they bore witness to just how far we’ve grown apart.

* * *

“Mind if I join you?” Mom asked, thin fingers gracefully tucking her long hair behind her ear. Kuroo sat heavily on a bench in the hall outside my room. He nodded, sliding over on the bench to give her ample room to sit, though she tucked herself deep in the corner. A small chuckle escaped him as he watched her settle in, reading the question in her eyes. 

“I can see where he gets his love of tight places,” he explained quietly, looking at the floor. “Always tucked up nice and close to whatever’s warmest. Makes me forget how tall he is sometimes.” Mom smiled her agreement. She didn’t say anything, just sat in his company, absorbing his negative energy and replacing it with the optimism she seemed to radiate. “I’m an awful friend, Kozume-san , I’m sorry,” he confessed, eyes trained on the tiles. 

“Kuroo,” she said with a soft smile, “you’re not an awful friend.” 

“Judging by what’s just happened, I’m afraid I’ll have to politely disagree with you,” he huffed a quiet, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head at his past behavior. Mom sat pensively for a moment, thinking of the right thing to say. 

“Want to know something, Kuroo?” she asked, readjusting herself in the corner of the bench to face him. He turned to her, waiting quietly for her wisdom. She leaned forward to press the words into Kuroo’s mind, “Kenma might think that he’s not your friend, but you never once stopped being his.” 

Kuroo didn’t quite understand, but she nodded, confirming the truth, “He watched you every day, checking to make sure you were okay.” Kuroo stared at her in disbelief. Mom sighed, quickly thinking of an example, “Remember when your mathematics teacher let you retake the exam this past semester?” she began. This he remembered very well, and his confusion passed. 

“Yes,” Kuroo smiled, remembering how relieved he was, “I lucked out. Would’ve been _toast_ if he didn’t let me retake it.” Briefly reminiscing over the last year, he never thought to ask how she came to know this.

“Ever stop and think how such a ruthless teacher would let you retake a final exam, of all things?” She watched him with expectant gold eyes, softening even further as the dots connect in his mind.

“Kenma… he said something to that teacher, didn’t he.” He cast his eyes back down, wondering how he’d never seen it before. Wondering what else I’d done for him that he just never noticed. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, “God, I’m an idiot.” Mom placed a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately.

“You never stopped being his friend, Kuroo. He’s scared, yes, scared of how sad he is, what that sadness has driven him to do. He doesn’t want you to worry about him because he thinks he drags you down. You have to be the one to show him otherwise.” Her voice was firm and calm in telling him what he needed to do, “You’ve always been like a second son to me, Kuroo. Kenma needs someone who understands him, someone to lean on who’s not me.” 

Kuroo stood slowly, keeping his eyes trained on my mother as she nodded her head, silently giving him the go ahead to talk to me in private. “Thank you, Kozume-san,” he said, bowing his head and taking his leave.

* * *

I laid on my side, away from the door, breathing softly and staring at my bandages. 

_Why am I like this?_

I burrowed deeper into the pillows, my shoulderblades and toes feeling icy cold. I whined quietly, wanting to hug my knees to my chest but my body felt so weighted, I could hardly move. 

_I can’t believe slitting my wrist was the first thing I’ve truly felt in years. What’s wrong with me? What I always such a freak? Did Kuroo notice it when we were kids? Maybe he felt sorry for me… I can’t go to Miyako,I would only be holding him back, suck the fun out of everything like I always do. I would only--_

“Stop that.” 

The weight of a body sank into my hospital bed before me, making the springs groan. My drooping eyes snapped to full attention, staring away from the body in front of me but listening intently. 

“I know when you’re thinking badly about yourself, Kenma. You get this little crease between your eyebrows.” With a small gasp, I did my best to quiet my face, though as expected, the crease between my brows remained. Kuroo adjusted his position on my bed, sending a breath of cold air from the sheets to bring shivers up my spine. With a small, concerned frown, he pulled up the blanket to my neck, smoothing it into my shoulders with a slow sweep of his hand.

“What’re--” 

“You looked cold,” he said, looking away from me. “I can tell when you’re cold too, y’know.” His shoulders were tensed, hands gripping the edge of the bed like he was prepared to get up and leave at a moment’s notice. The moment he decided I wasn’t worth it, he would leave. Or maybe he thought I’d tell him to leave.

“And I can tell when you’re uncomfortable,” I decided to say, telling him the truth. I let my gaze slid down to where his hands met the bed. I could see them loosen in denial, I figured he’d do that. 

“Kenma,” he started, “Give me a chance to make it up to you.” 

I must admit, I wasn’t prepared for that. I kept my eyes trained downward, but listened to the tense silence that stretched between us. Kuroo stared at me. I could feel the heat of his gaze, determined as ever. He wanted my forgiveness, and would stop at nothing. I remembered how he used to be, taking on any given task with gusto and ease. I wondered if he’d use the same strategies on me.

When I didn’t answer, he went on with a suggestion to follow his proposal. “We can start all over if you like,” he said, “I won’t touch you or bother you at all. I won’t make you speak to me if you don’t want to, and I won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Just give me one more chance to be your friend.”

It was not my intention to look up. The second our eyes met, I knew it was a mistake. There were very few things in this world that could manipulate me into doing things that I was uncomfortable. And a good look at Tetsurou Kuroo’s eyes was at the top of the list. Just knowing that that look, that certain combination of feeling and intent, it was only for me, he only looked at me this way, knowing this made me feel so… hopeful again. Only for a fleeting moment, but it filled my chest with warmth and light, and suddenly being trapped in Okinawa didn’t sound so bad.

“Miyako is beautiful this time of year...” I supposed, diverting my eyes for comfort. 

“So what do you say? Will you come to Okinawa with me? If you decide you hate it, I’ll take you right home. I promise.” 

“Sure…”


	3. Perennial Bridges

I pressed myself close to the back corners of the cab, watching as the city lights of Miyakojima’s center grew more and more distant, then faded from sight. It was getting dark fast, and I pushed myself closer to the window to watch as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, spreading expanses of orange and purple over the water. But even the colors had begun to fade and make room for a dark, clear night sky. 

Sunayama Beach, about two miles north of Miyako Shrine, was where we were headed. It was known for the natural arch of rock that stood over the shore like a bridge. Just a few minutes away were a string of villas and cabins for vacationers to stay in. They were tall and perfectly white, shaped like cubes of sugar because that’s what all contemporary Japanese architecture seems to consist of nowadays. Clean lines and pressed linens attracted tourism. But to me it all seemed so… lavish. Overly lavish. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mom’s voice hung low and sandy in her throat. She turned towards me, bending her spine in such a way to leave as much room for a sleeping Kuroo as possible. I tore my eyes away from the sky to watch the colors paint shapes over Mom’s face, reds and oranges reflecting in her eyes. 

“Nothing,” I shrugged. 

“Then what’s that look?” I glanced over at her long enough to see the mischief in her smile as she poked fun at me. 

“This isn’t a look, this is my face.” 

“Pffft,” she smirked at me, shifting her eyes from mine to the window, “Looks like we’re almost there,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of white lights that hugged close to each other in the not-so-far distance. 

A little colony of six or seven vilas populated the beach. It seemed that only two of them were occupied. We turned into the thin, winding road that traveled throughout the little compound, connecting the villas to the main road. Ours was the one on the end. It stood away from the others, turned away from them. I watched as tall white walls loomed further and further over us, wondering if it isolated itself from the others or if they shunned it. 

“Ready to go?” Mom’s cheerful voice interrupted my thoughts just before they took a turn for the dismal. 

“Uh, yeah sure.”

..

Mom gasped when we finally made it inside, dropping the bags she carried on the floor. Bronze-colored eyes caught glimmers of the dim overhead lights as she took in everything. The front door opened up to an area that seemed to be divided into three sections: living room, dining room, and kitchen. To the left of us was a staircase that lead up to the bedroom loft and terrace, and straight ahead were glass doors that lead outside. 

“This is beautiful, Kuroo!” she sang, her hair catching the air as she turned to face him with a big smile, “it’s just amazing! How did you--” She cut herself off, sending a smug grin in Kuroo’s direction.

“Oikawa,” they answered in unison.

Mom waved the air in front of her face, “Pfft, he spoils you rotten, Kuroo.” He shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and turned to me.

“Wanna pick a room, Kenma?” he asked with a shy but hopeful smile. He glanced over at my Mom who had begun her snooping, “Seems like she can do with some exploring on her own.” I watched her as she peeked around corners and down halls, sniffing around like a cat. He was right, she did seem occupied, and it was indeed getting late... 

I offered yet another shrug, turning to trudge up the stairs with what I could carry, which wasn’t a lot. Part of me knew he’d be smiling as he followed behind just a few steps behind me. The hall between the two bedroom doors was visible from the front door of the house, which was what made it a loft, I guessed. I turned to my left on a whim, choosing the leftmost room for my own. 

As I reached for the doorknob, I became very aware of Kuroo watching me, looking for my reactions. I froze for a moment, then slowly turned to face him. I was right; he had been watching me very very closely. He stood frozen for a beat, sharing tense eye contact until it was too much to bare.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he excused after a moment of silence. Then he was gone, skipping steps as he hurried down the stairs, trying not to look like he was running away. 

The room itself was rather plain, minimally furnished with minimal personality. There was a glass door that led to a balcony that I would share with Kuroo just next to the closet. It was perfect for me in a way. I set down my bags in the center of the room, eyes tracing all the edges and corners of my tomb. Here is where I would moulder away for the next six weeks. At least it’s rather sensible and not too hot at night.

I was startled out of thoughtfulness when Mom burst through the door, excitedly taking in my new room. Kuroo followed closely behind. With a seemingly hyperbolized groan, he set down every other bag I’d missed in my choosing of what I could carry. Mom cooed like a little bird, congratulating him on being able to lift what I can assume to be his body weight, or at the very least, mine. 

“Oh it’s perfect, Kenma! You can wake up to the sun on your face every morning!” she exclaimed, throwing open the curtains that hid the sky from my bedside. 

“I guess…” 

I could feel Kuroo staring at me like a caged bird. With Mom occupied with her exploring, I shot him a blank glare, hoping that if I stared at him long enough he’d go away. 

“I’ll let you two unpack,” Kuroo excused once more, nodding his head and ducking out of the room to his own, leaving me alone with Mom and several unpacked suitcases.

I was right.

“No wait--” she called after him, but it was too late. “Ugh!” she groaned, throwing her arms down and widening her eyes at me in frustration, “You’re going to have to say something to him eventually, you know. You can’t avoid each other all summer.”

“I can try…” I mumbled, standing awkwardly in the center of the room. 

Mom groaned again, stubbornly rolling her eyes. She dragged a suitcase over to the bed, scooting across the floor because she refused to lift her feet and actually walk backward. Throwing it onto the bed with a grunt, she ripped open the zipper to start rather violently hanging my clothes up in the closet. 

“Y-You don’t have to hang them--” I started, growing wary of her temper tantrum, but it seemed like she’d rather take out her frustrations on my clothes than anything else. 

“Yes, we do Kenma.” She whirled around to face me, wide eyed and holding a t-shirt. She was quiet and still for a moment, her eyes were pensive, like she was searching for the right words to say. “Come,” she said finally, crossing the room to sit on the bed, “sit with me a moment.”

She smiled at me, patting a space just next to her that I filled without resistance. I could tell she was still frustrated by how she twirled a long strand of dark hair around one of her fingers, but she wasn’t cross with me. She knew I’d shut down. She knew exactly how to talk to me, even when she wasn’t exactly happy with my behavior. 

“We have to hang up your clothes because I want you to _see_ yourself moving forward,” she started, getting right to the point. “I want you to be able to call this place home just for a little while.” I watched speechlessly as tears of passion and sadness made her golden eyes gleam. She didn’t even try to hold them back, she knew I needed to see them. 

“I want you to feel like this is where you belong,” she sighed, “Here, on Earth with Kuroo, and me, and everyone else that loves you. Can we try that, baby?” 

Taken aback, I nodded and gathered what I could from my suitcase to put it away. Mom smiled through her tears like she always did, following suit. We stood side by side, folding and hanging, working efficiently while Mom hummed the “Shop” theme from Ocarina of Time. She’d heard it so many times for so many years that the tune seemed perfectly suited for her voice and she didn’t have to think about it at all. 

We’d established such a productive rhythm of trading and switching places that we barely realized when we’d finished the job. There was only one bag left by the time Kuroo had worked up the courage to rejoin us, though I felt like we’d already unpacked everything. What else could there have been?

“I’m almost finished here, Kenma,” Mom announced happily, “why don’t you go scope out the balcony?” 

“You’re going to talk about me, aren’t you,” I responded vacantly, without even looking in Kuroo’s direction. Mom grumbled almost inaudibly, but came up with a brilliant way to get me to comply.

“Yes! How did you know?” she squealed in delight, “I was just going to show Kuroo all your baby pictures!” Kuroo tensed at his name, gaping like a fish for being put on the spot. Mom looked at me with that dreamy, motherly look that all parents make at their kids. “Oh, Kenma you’ve grown so much! Aw~ my precious baby!”

I’ve never moved so fast in my life, or at least not as of late. Instantly, I was out on the balcony, waiting for the okay to come back in.

* * *

Kuroo coughed up surprised, stifled laughter at Mom’s smug smirk. “Okay,” she said, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. She craned her neck to look into his eyes, reaching into her back pocket and producing an envelope. Kuroo looked at it, then back at her, knowing that she’d likely explain before he had time to ask what it was. 

“I wrote it all down,” she explained, taking Kuroo’s hands and pressing the envelope into his palm. “It’s the card for the psychiatrist-- I made an appointment for him on Monday at three, so don’t be late. Yanagi says he has to change his bandages every two days, so I put all the stuff for that under the sink in the bathroom. He should be getting his prescriptions within the next few days or so: He needs to take one at night and one in the morning, they’ll explain it to you when the time comes. You have my number, right?”

“Yes of course,” he replied, doing his best to seem unfazed by the sudden bombardment of information. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, staring down at the envelope detailing how to care for me, then repeated it back to Mom, “Appointment on Monday, bandages every two days, medications in the morning and at night. How’d I do?” With a smile that crinkled her eyes and showed her teeth, Mom stood on the tips of her toes and slapped her hands on either side of his face to kiss him in the middle of his forehead.

“No parties! No junk food!” she added. Kuroo’s jaw dropped in melodramatic betrayal. He gripped his chest.

“Mama-san, don’t you trust me at all!” he whooped, unable to stop the small smile from creeping onto his face. Though she still smiled sweetly, Mom suddenly became very serious.

“That’s my baby out there, Tetsurou. I know how naughty you are,” she deadpanned, poking him in the sternum, “Keep him safe, okay?” They were quiet for a moment, sharing a meaningful silence to prove that they understood each other. 

“I won’t let you down.”

Satisfied with his reply, Mom sighed deeply in preparation for a long and most likely tearful goodbye. She couldn’t stay much longer; her flight back to the mainland left in a few hours. She poked her head out onto the balcony, dipping down so far her hair nearly touched the floor.

“Kenma?” she called for me. Having been mesmerized by the stars and their brightness, I took a moment before turning my gaze from them to her, humming my acknowledgement. “It’s time for me to go,” she said. I stood slowly from my spot where I’d curled up in a chair to shield myself from the nighttime breeze. I did start toward her, I wouldn’t resist. But I would take my own sweet time in doing so, stretching out our last moment before she leaves me here alone. She took a few impatient steps forward to wrap her arms around me. I squeezed her to me with all my strength, ignoring the protesting pain in my arms.

“Bye baby,” she whispered, pulling away to look me in the eye. Her hands came up to trace my cheeks and mine covered them, “call me if you need me, okay? And try to have fun!” She smiled sadly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She couldn’t resist the urge to hold onto me again, letting me trade my fear for her strength. “You’re the strongest person I know,” she whispered, “you can do it.”

“Bye Mom,” I whimpered, beginning to shake with the effort of holding back hurricanes in my head. She loosened her grip, I tightened mine, fighting to somehow make her stay. She sighed and squeezed me one last time before releasing me and giving her goodbyes to Kuroo.

“See you soon, Kozume-san.”

“Remember,” she warned lowly, “You promised.”

And then she was gone.

..

A light, tentative rap at my new bedroom’s door brought a startled gasp from my chest. As my eyes, swollen, red, and tearful, flicked up to stare hard at the door. Kuroo had already poked his head in to investigate the quiet weeping. I accidentally met his gaze in a brief moment of contact so intense that I shuddered and had to look away, releasing another strangled sob. He hovered for a moment with an almost painfully helpless expression on his face, but he never entered my room. 

I fell into a fitful sleep, too cried out to keep my eyes open but too brimming with unthought out scenarios, unanswered questions, and unfulfilled tasks to really sleep. It was a perfect combination of factors, and my brain couldn’t help but open the door to my innermost terrors just a crack, letting the monsters in my head ooze out in a slow moving, vivid night terror. 

I whined. I choked. I kicked my sheets away. But I couldn’t wake up. It seemed that they would get me this time. The shadows that followed me everywhere I went would swallow me up and no one was here to witness the unsatisfying end of Kozume Kenma: victim of his own mind. 

But just as hot black tar had started filling my mouth and nose, a soft, pleasant warmth permeated the darkness. I thought I would drown, but a hand reached in and pulled me up. But who was it at the end of the hand that saved my life?

A tireless hand traced swirling patterns into my scalp, while the other covered me once more with my rejected sheets. My heart rate slowed to beat slow and steady like a drum, and so did my breathing. The fearful gasps and whimpers stopped, replaced by quiet, sleepy, contented purrs as I settled back into a body much bigger than my own. I fit so perfectly here, absorbing the warmth from this body. I even curled my legs up to my chest, becoming as small as possible. The body behind me must’ve smiled, gradually growing tired and falling asleep with me in their arms.


	4. Second Chances

It was warm and safe here in the calm sea of comforters and sheets. They kept me heavy and dense, pulled me down into the comforts of a peaceful, nightmare-less sleep. It was easy, so easy that I’d forgotten how difficult it can be to achieve this level of sleep for me. How I hated that my mind kept working and processing and catastrophizing every little thing I did or said that day. It seemed impossible to sleep on the exceptionally bad days. But this night, this blessed oasis in a desert of insomnia, I slept for a grand total of fourteen consecutive hours. 

When I did open my eyes, they didn’t burn or sting with protest. The sun didn’t patronize me with hard, glaring light. White curtains that framed the windows and balcony doors floated through the air with the gentle sea breeze. Waves lapped at the beach just outside. Every sight, every sound, every scent welcomed be back to consciousness with open arms. 

I rolled onto my other side with a hum, smoothing out unruly blond hair that stuck up at odd angles. I stretched my spine, seeming to triple in size as I extended my arms and legs with a sleepy groan. My eyes peeled open again, coming face to face with a pillow that had been pushed up against me. It sat there, in an unexpected vertical position, crumpled slightly in the very center. 

_What the hell..?_

I reached out to snatch it from where it laid, pulling it close for examination. Had I been the one to set it vertically? How did I get sandwiched between pillows like this? My eyes roved over every plane of this pillows existence, and that was when I found it. A single black hair.

 _I knew it…_

With sleepy coordination, I stood from my bed, getting a good glimpse at my nappy bedhead and droopy eyes in the mirror. I paused for a moment, watching myself ghost my fingers over my bandages. Still there. Still a failure. I groaned, pulling the offending pillow off the bed by the hem of it’s case. Hugging it close to my chest, I stepped out into the hallway in search of Kuroo.

Quiet, hesitant steps brought me to his bedroom door. I almost knocked before a sound from downstairs startled me, the inaudible murmuring of a TV. I made my way down the stairs, pillow in hand, making it about halfway down before I saw him. Kuroo had sprawled out on the couch, looking in the direction of the TV screen but not really seeing it. He must’ve been bored. I glanced over to the clock on the stove in the kitchen. Squinting my eyes, I could see that it read 12:13. 

“Kuroo,” I called quietly from the stairs, hugging the pillow for protection. His whole body perked up in attention, turning towards the stairs to see me standing there. A wide adoring smile split his face nearly in half.

“Morning Sunshine,” he swelled with the urge to point out how late I’d slept. I was usually the one who woke up with the birds. Now that he’d actually beaten me, he wanted so badly to brag about it, but did his best to hold it in. “Not gonna lie, I definitely ate your food. I’ll go out again a little later.”

“Kuroo,” I repeated, trying to put forth some irritation, or at least a little conviction, but my voice came out sleepy and confused despite my efforts. Kuroo continued to regale me with the story of some kids that he’d met in the market earlier today. I called his name twice more, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Listen!” I finally wailed, startling myself with the power and volume of my voice. I squeezed the pillow in my arms to stave off a panic that welled up in my throat. Kuroo’s eyes widened like saucers. Even the murmur of the TV set seemed to quiet a bit. He set his feet flat on the floor, standing slowly and facing me, hands raised in surrender.

“I’m listening.” I swallowed another ball of panic that lodged itself deep in my throat. A peachy blush ran across his cheeks.

“Did you… Did you sleep with me last night?” 

“Uhh… No..?”

“Yes you did,” I squeezed the pillow again, “This pillow was vertical when I woke up. And this is your hair.” 

“I can explain--”

“Don’t do that.”

“You were having a nightmare. I wanted to wake you up, but you looked so tired so I--”

“Don’t do that!” I shouted, cutting him off. The room around us grew dark and cold, like the sun had turned its back on us. “You don’t get to just climb into bed with me like none of this ever happened! What, are you satisfied? Did you ignore me for all this time so you could put me back together again?” 

Word Vomit: what occurs when one’s emotional distress surpasses all rationality yet they still have working voice boxes. I didn’t mean any of it past ‘don’t do that’. I didn’t even agree with it. I knew why he chose to ignore me; he enjoyed the life he was living without me, under the sun of success and popularity. But I couldn’t stop until it was all out of my system. And like vomiting, when it was over I was panting, exhausted, and about to cry. 

“Okay,” Kuroo accepted in a small, defeated voice. He didn’t apologize; he knew I wouldn’t accept it if he did. 

..

_Hello Hello! You’ve reached Kozume Mayu! I’m so sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get right back to you!_

“M-Mom, I can’t do this anymore, I’m so sorry I-- I’m stuck on this terrace. I can’t go downstairs-- I just want to go home!”

_Hello Hello! You’ve reached Kozume Mayu! I’m so sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get right back to you!_

“What am I supposed to do, Mom? I said some things I can’t take back. I need you! Call me back!”

_Hello Hello! You’ve reached Kozume Mayu! I’m so sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get right back to you!_

“Are you ignoring me, too?”

_Hello Hello! You’ve reached Ko--_

“Oh forget it!”

..

I sat heavily in a lawn chair on my side of the balcony, staring at my call history. Three calls in quick succession was usually enough to inspire some urgency. But it’s been half an hour since I’d made my last call, Mom wasn’t answering. 

I watched a group of boys playing keep-away on the beach below, slumped over the railing and idly twisting a lock of my hair around with my fingers. There were six of them in total, three on each team. I chose one team at random to root for, consisting of a boy that had uncanny talent, a boy in a red t shirt soaked in sweat from boiling under the sun, and a boy with freshly blue hair that had stained the back of his neck as it melted in the sun. 

“Wonder Boy tosses to Red Shirt and he….. misses completely,” I narrated boredly, calling action just before it happened, “Wonder Boy should stop relying on Red Shirt and go with Blue Hair as a safer bet.”

Like I said, Red Shirt missed the ball by a good three feet before a boy on the opposing team catches it, bringing it into their possession. The team I’d sided with struggled to regain control of the ball, and when they did it was by the hand of the kid with blue hair. But that didn’t help him gain the trust from the only kid with any talent. 

“Yet again, Wonder Boy neglects to pass to Blue Hair and tosses to Red Shirt who barely receives it by the skin of his teeth.” Of course, as if by magic, Red Shirt actually catches the ball. It’s your lucky day, Red Shirt,” I congratulated rather sarcastically, feeling bad for Blue Hair. He was a much better player than Red Shirt with none of the recognition. 

“How do you do that?” 

I spun to put my eyes on the being that spoke to me, that ruined my quiet reprieve from my dramatic life. Then I remembered the dried pathways frustrated tears had carved into my cheeks, ruddy with upset and friction from rubbing against the sleeve of my shirt, and quickly looked away. 

“Hey,” Kuroo broke the silence, nervously running his tongue across his lips and shifting his weight. 

“Hey,” I replied, the heat of his nervously hopeful gaze actually making me sweat. I should apologize for what I said to him, for overreacting at all. He was only trying to help me in the best way he knew how. I was the one who didn’t understand. But how could I say all of that after I’d locked myself on the balcony for the better part of the day?

“...You okay?” 

My eyes rolled back up to the doorway where Kuroo had leaned up against the frame, resting his face on his arm. Wild, powerful, golden eyes tamed themselves for me, just for me. They drifted over my stained cheeks and runny nose, stopping solidly on the thick bandages that held my seams together. They lost some of their shine when I shook my head. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he offered, unsurprised by the sniffly shake of my head in reply. “How do you know what’s gonna happen before it does?” he asked, telling me in his own way that he had been watching for quite some time. He gave me a moment to send him away, and he would understand.

“I watch,” I replied, inviting him onto the balcony in _my_ own way. He relaxed almost instantly, though he kept his guard up just in case. He stood beside me and I sat back down, both of us watching the boys on the beach. 

“So what do you see?” Kuroo asked, the late afternoon sky painting his face pink and orange. I caught myself when my eyes lingered on his just a second too long, swiftly looking down to catch him up on the game.

“That one’s the best player,” I explained nervously, hoping he didn’t notice me staring, “That one could be great if he actually had the ball. That one’s a mess.”

A smirk made it’s way onto Kuroo’s face. He’d always been amused at little things like that. Whenever I got annoyed or frustrated with anything he’d always smirk, like he’d forgotten that someone as unthreatening as me could have negative opinions. 

“Ahh,” he mused, sparing me from any commentary. We watched the game; Wonder Boy ramped up for a long lob to Blue Hair, who stood behind the boys on the opposite team. “Miss,” Kuroo predicted.

“Not quite,” I disagreed just before Wonder Boy threw the ball, it landed hard in Blue Hair’s hands, may have even knocked the wind from his lungs, but he caught it nonetheless. But I could tell the toss he’d throw to Red Shirt wouldn’t follow through. “Miss.”

Kuroo sulked at being wrong, a dramatically comical grimace plastered on his face. He turned things around for himself when a boy from the opposing team threw the ball to his team member. He stood up and screamed, “MISS!” as loud as he could, loud enough for the boys to hear then ducked down behind the safety of the covered rail, pulling me down with him. 

We were dead silent, hearing a fair amount of _what the hell?_ and _who was that?_. But when we heard the ball hit the ground, Kuroo burst into quieted laughter, having finally been right. 

“Kuroo, what were you--”

_bzzzzzt! bzzzzzt!_

“Hold on one sec, it’s the pharmacy,” he avoided my secondhand embarrassment with a smug grin, then answered his phone with a happy hello. The person on the other line didn’t seem to have much to say because he quickly added, “Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” then hung up.

He turned back to me with a smile, “Going to the markets, wanna come?”

“I’ll pass,” I denied, the idea of going outside seemed too daunting today.

“You sure?” he pressed. 

I shrugged and stood, getting ready to head back inside when a hand shot out to grab mine, holding me in place. He yanked me back so hard and fast I was face to chest in half a second, being smushed in the midst of a tight hug. It was dark and hard to breath, but so warm and safe that I forgot who I was.

“I’m sorry I went in your room without your permission,” he whispered into my hair, scraping at my scalp and feeling me go from tense to relaxed. I hummed my forgiveness, being unable to speak since I was pressed in so tightly. “You’ll still be here when I come right? In one piece?” I nodded calmly, though my mind shot off in a million different directions. He let me go, looking into me to make sure I wasn’t lying. I was dazed, confused, and a little saddened in leaving that hug. I couldn’t really focus as my mind had gone blank.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. Then he trotted out the door and to the markets. I waited for him in my room, watching as the sun went down.

 _Today was a roller coaster…_ I thought to myself, trying to decode everything that happened today thus far. _I slept. Actually slept! Was that because of him..? Then why was I so mad? Ugh, I’m a mess!_

I stood to pace, finding that physical movement helped push all this unnecessary thought out of my brain.

_What does this mean? Are we to simply start again? Act like we used to? Should we sit down and have a real talk about it? I mean, I already know what he’s been up to but maybe he’ll want to tell me himself. And he’ll want to know about me. What if he doesn’t like how much I’ve changed?_

The front door opened, freezing me mid pace. I listened to his heavy footsteps as he traveled through the house. It wasn’t long before he returned to the doorway with his signature smug grin and narrow eyes, regarding me with such mischief I briefly forgot where we were. It was like we’d gone back in time to when he always looked at me like this. 

“Mochi?” 

Three boxes, three flavors; vanilla, strawberry, and green tea. 

I forgot everything.

Without a single, solitary thought, my vision cleared of everything except the mochi. My legs stood and carried me across the room so quickly that I found myself mere inches away from him before I fully regained control, hands raised and ready to unburden him from the toils of holding cold things.

“Wait.” Kuroo’s voice was deep and firm, calling my attention. “I also have Super Mario.”

..

“Oh my god, did you see that!” 

Luigi had lost yet another life, floating down through the earth and into the jaws of Hell, most likely. I’d always wondered where the character’s went when they died, especially in this game. But right now, I was caught up in a loop of feeding myself mochi and making Kuroo’s deaths look like accidents. It provided extra challenge, as this game was relatively easy for me, and with Dry Bones around every corner and Bowser breathing down our necks, it wasn’t too difficult to pull the wool over his eyes.

He gasped rather melodramatically, sticking the landing for a jump he’d missed nine times due to his impatience. He hissed his celebratory “yes”es, distracted enough to give me the opportunity to turn around and shoot Luigi in the face with a fireball without Kuroo noticing. 

“Kenma! What the hell! We’re on the same team!” 

Or so I thought. 

Kuroo was more calculated for the remainder of the level, careful to avoid any and all hazards, including me. Presenting another challenge, I found myself working harder to get to him, even letting him charge ahead of me to gain confidence, but he evaded all my strikes. 

I never realized how much he was thinking. Getting me to chase him was forcing me to focus, to strategize for the first time in quite some time. Through something as simple as mochi and Super Mario, he’d discovered a way to coax me out of this broken body. I’d forgotten how long it’s been, that just days prior we were strangers. 

“Let’s go again,” I requested, sucking on green tea mochi mush and staring blankly at the screen. 

“And risk getting my ass kicked again?” he laughed a silenced, hissing laughter through his teeth, “You sneaky bastard.”

“Is it really sneaking if you never expected it in the first place?” I asked bluntly. Kuroo coughed dramatic faux-offense, slapping a hand to his chest like an old lady. I shrugged, but my eyelids had grown quite heavy towards the end of the level. We finished the round without much eventfulness. 

“Hey,” he said with a regular happy smirk on his face. 

“Hmm..?” I hummed, swallowing a last bit of green mush, staring at the end screen.

“Getting tired?” 

I pondered his question for a moment. Yes, I was extremely tired, but I doubted I’d get any real sleep. “Yeah… a bit,” I decided to tell the truth through a yawn. Kuroo stood from the floor, abandoning his controler, and held out a hand. I saw it, I saw him, but it didn’t really register in my mind that he was offering to help me up until he took the liberty to pull me up to a standing position anyway.

“C’mon,” he offered, turning to head up the stairs, “let’s get your bandages changed then into bed.”

I shuddered, wrinkled my nose in dread. Today was the first day I’d endeavor to switch the bandages that hid my shame for clean ones. I would half to stare myself dead in the eye and fully realize the physical repercussions of slitting my wrists. It would hurt, both physically and mentally, and I didn’t feel prepared for that. But I dragged my feet across up the stairs and across the small hallway to the upstairs bathroom, reluctance reading clearly all over my face.

He beat me to the bathroom, meeting me with a wary gaze where he leaned against the doorframe. Through a brief moment of silent eye contact, I gathered that he was meant to help me, and I suddenly became so sick to my stomach that I grimaced and steadied myself on the wall. The only thing that would make this worse would be for him to see. _I_ don’t even want to see. 

“Whoa, you okay?” he asked, tensing to help me stand but I waved him off, putting on a brave face and making my way to the sink. I climbed up onto it, sitting down before him with a nod confirming my shaky health thus far. More awkward silence stretched between us before he remembered something. 

“Wait here,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom for a moment to retrieve something from his room. 

“Sure,” I replied quietly, even though he was out of earshot. 

I watched my ankles bounce up and down, floating about six or seven inches above the floor. Kuroo wandered into the bathroom where I waited, reading the label on a blue prescription bottle; my new medication. His face crumpled into slightly frustrated confusion at unrecognizable kanji paired with the medication’s chemical name in English. 

“Alright,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and showing me the bottle, “I’m thinkin’ this one’s for sleep but correct me when I’m wrong.” 

I didn’t reach out to take the bottle from him, noticing that he wasn’t offering it to me per say. I was sure the doctors as well as my mother had warned him not to let me hold onto the meds just in case I had another psychotic break. I skimmed the label, picking out the phrase “intended use: sleep” pretty quickly and nodded to confirm that these were indeed the night meds. Kuroo smiled, pleased in his guessing the right med on the first try. 

“It says you gotta take two,” he announced, burning the exact amount I’m meant to take into his mind. “Wanna take them now or after we switch your bandages?”

“Do we have to…” I cringed at the thought of actually laying eyes on the gashes I’d created. Since they ran up the center of my forearms and not across, the doctors couldn’t risk stitching me back together with a needle and thread. They had to tape the wounds closed and wrap them tight and thank their lucky stars that I wasn’t strong enough to really deepen the wounds when I’d attempted suicide. 

“Doc’s orders, Kenma,” Kuroo replied, saddened beyond expression, “here.” He handed me two white tablets about the size of m&ms. “I’ll grab you some water for that, hold on.” He turned out of the bathroom, heading downstairs, and I was waiting quietly when my eyes fell upon the little blue pill bottle. He’d left it here.

Without thinking, I snatched up the bottle, retrieved two more tablets, and swallowed them down without the assistance of water. They hit the bottom of my stomach like boulders when I realized what I’d done. I stared down at the pills Kuroo had placed into my hand himself. There was no way I could refuse to take them, and I couldn’t tell him I’d impulsively just dry-swallowed two extra, he’d think there’s something wrong with me. 

_God, Kenma. What is wrong with you?_

_I’m self-destructive, that’s what’s wrong._

“Okay.” I flinched at the sound of Kuroo’s voice. He’d returned with a glass of water. “Bottom’s up, kid.” 

I could feel the drowsiness starting to blur my vision. Or was I so frightened of my own impulses that I was about to faint? I stared down at the two pills, watched them as they taunted me. And again, without thinking, I simply tossed them back like it didn’t even matter. Kuroo handed me the glass of water which I downed quickly, hoping it would dilute the density of the medicine and lessen its potentially problematic or even dire effects. But the strangest thing of all was that I felt entirely numb. I might have just accidentally ended my life and I didn’t care an inch. I was apathetic. 

“Beautiful,” Kuroo cheered my cooperation with a smile that could make flowers grow. But when he turned to our next order of business, his smile faded. 

A hesitant hand took mine while the other traced the bandage, looking for the end of it. I watched him work and tried to ignore the knots in my stomach growing more and more tangled and twisted. When he found the end of the bandage I had to swallow a thick lump in my throat, instantly regretting it when it sank to the bottom of my belly alongside all the knots. Kuroo tried to be as gentle as possible in unwinding what seemed like miles of bandage. I couldn’t look away when the layers of bandage slowly but surely turned a sickly yellow that smelled foul. I was full-on shaking when they turned deep red. 

“Kenma, look at me,” a deep voice called out to me, ripping my attention from my arms to Kuroo’s eyes that looked at me with such crippling guilt like he thought he was hurting me. “Don’t watch this part okay?” he warned. And there it was again, the lapse in memory and time. It was like we’d never parted ways. He still cared enough about me to save me from unpleasantness. 

I screwed my eyes shut and held my breath, which didn’t last long. I hissed at sharp pain when he peeled the last bit of bandage away. I heard him swallow, seeing what I’ve done to myself up close and personal. Judging by how long he paused, it must’ve been pretty unsightly. 

“I-- uh…” he started, going into the cabinet below the sink where I sat and moving things around, “I have to clean it, Kenma. It’s gonna sting, okay?”

“Okay,” I complied easily. 

But the moment he touched what I assumed was rubbing alcohol to the very edge of my wound, I gasped and involuntarily grabbed onto my wrist with my other hand. A violent shudder passed through me that ripped my eyes open to stare down in horror at the unbearable, ripping pain. I’d dislodged the thin adhesive stitches that barely held my forearm together. It stood wide open and stinging fiercely. Layers of skin, scab, and fat were torn apart, standing at different levels so both of us could _see_ the very anatomy that made up my arm. 

I inhaled a deep breath, preparing to shriek at the gore that met my eyes, but possibly fatally high amounts of sleep medication worked against my rapid responses, slowing me down even within the first five minutes in taking them. But they did nothing to ease the churning horror that vibrated through me and all around me, even as Kuroo gently cleaned thick clots of blood and iodine away from the surface of my skin. 

He worked as quickly as he could, replacing the adhesive stitches and bandage with impressive precision for an unpracticed teenager. When the last of the second bandage wound tightly around my remaining arm, I was so thoroughly traumatized by my own mutilation I could barely move. I sat completely still, save for the neverending tremors that passed through me like wind, eyes wide and blank like a dead fish. 

Kuroo’s breathing was ragged and frightened. His hands held lightly to my wrist, rubbing over the clean bandage with his thumbs. He watched me so closely for any vague signs of life behind my eyes, but knew in his heart I’d disappeared for the moment. I’d left my body as it steady became drowsier and drowsier to the point that my spine could no longer hold the weight of my body and slowly but surely began to wilt like a dying flower. 

Kuroo swept me up into his arms, observing that I wouldn’t be walking out of there by myself. And through the fog that clouded my vision and thinking, I swelled with unexpecting appreciation. He whispered little praises into my ear, coddling me like a freshly vaccinated toddler. I held uncomittedly to the back of his shirt as he carried me to my room, nearly asleep but awake enough to hear his most potent sentence he’d spoken to me since our reunion.

“I’m so proud of you, Kenma,” he whispered, kicking my door open, “You’re doing so well.”

He set me down on the very edge of my bed, remembering how much I prefer corners and edges. On the outside, I couldn’t keep my eyes open or move very much at all, but on the inside I was wide awake and completely speechless. He traced me with his eyes, scanning for any problems, and once he confirmed to himself that I was alright, he bid me goodnight and turned to leave.

“No,” I protested in a small voice. I pawed the sheets next to me, “Stay.” 

He watched me for a moment, and I tried to return his gaze but there was no fighting the tiredness off and without much trouble, everything faded to black. When the mattress groaned at the weight that sank into it just behind me I did my best to smile, but it came across as a sleepy twitch and not much more. He settled in behind me, daring to pull me as close as we’d slept before. It was innocent and lighthearted but held such a deep, impactful meaning that was not lost on me. 

“Your hair’s still blond,” he observed quietly, staring at the top of my head, “Even after all these years.” I hummed in acknowledgement nudging backward into the warmth he gave off. I wanted to pull my legs up to my chest out of habitual comfort preference, but I was too heavy with sleep to do much of anything. 

“It’s a Zelda thing, right?” he asked, clearly seeing that I wouldn’t answer. He let out a little puff of amusement that grew into quiet, adoring laughter when he snuck a few fingertips into the hair at the nape of my neck. Even when I was fully awake and alert I could fall asleep momentarily if anyone knew to mess with my hair. Even on my most sleep deprived nights, there was always the end all, be all option of calling Mom and having her coax me to sleep. Kuroo remembered this, of course, and I was asleep faster than I’d ever fallen asleep to date. And I didn’t have a single bad dream.


	5. Chucks and Cornflowers

A weight sank down before me, blocking out the sun. Gentle fingertips brushed my hair to the side, and whoever the hand belonged to heard me sigh. They coaxed me to the brink of wakefulness while heavy levels of drugs with hard-to-pronounce names held me down with strong arms. They trapped me in that primitive state of mind, where all my habits and directives hadn’t yet returned to the forefront of my mind. I wasn’t myself yet. 

“It’s almost noon, Kenma.” 

A deep, yet softened voice whispered the time into my ear, its hot breath disturbing the fine hairs that framed my face. When I thought I would burst, when my eyelids could no longer hold shut, I opened my eyes and looked up through my lashes. 

“Did you sleep okay?” A vague, abstracted version of Kuroo’s face eclipsed the sun, stood in it’s way to protect my wide eyes from overbearing light. He kept his voice down and soft, continuing to brush the hair from my eyes. I nodded drowsily as I slipped back into sleep. 

“Did you leave?” I asked, my voice low, soaked in weighted drowsiness. The shapes that made up Kuroo’s face were gradually gaining detail, though my disposition hadn’t quite returned to me. He was smiling a genuine smile, one where the corners of his eyes creased and his teeth showed. And I realized that I’m the only one that gets to see him like this; so vulnerable, yet so carelessly displaying his happiness, he knew I would never hurt him. 

“I found something you might enjoy.” That real smile, devoid of mischief. I loved the way it curved his lips and dug lines and dimples into his cheeks. I loved the way he never seemed to brush his hair. However it looked when he first rolled out of bed was simply how it was going to be all day. Most thought he was lazy, but I knew his mind was always working, he was always doing something he felt was important. More important than his personal appearance. 

It all felt so familiar. Waking up beside him was such a practiced behavior that I’d felt so disconnected when it stopped. A part of me had been missing and it’s just returned to me. It was peaceful, easy. Maybe too easy. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, the unavoidable urge to connect overtook a sleep-addled me. With a small push against the bed, I rose and closed the inch between us, pressing a sleepy kiss to his lips. It was soft and sweet and chaste and only lasted a _second._

“Majora’s Mask?” I asked with a bit of sarcasm laced with hope. Just as I’d re-closed my eyes, the hand in my hair disappeared, ripping an angry growl from my chest which really sounded like a disappointed mew. “No, come back.” 

An eerie silence paused our conversation as Kuroo wordlessly froze in his place. All the lethargy drained away as I sat up, crossing my arms in a childlike pout. “Kuroo, seriously--” 

“Kenma,” he snapped, firmly yanking me to wakefulness. His hushed morning happiness had frozen over so quickly it almost seemed like I’d dreamed it this whole time. “What are you doing?” 

What was I doing? I sat confused for a long moment, retracing this mornings few steps. I’d woken up happily, Kuroo said he had something for me, I thought it was Majora’s Mask--

My blood congealed, thickening like molasses in my veins, effectively stopping my heart and lungs. I watched the bridge collapse. The few days spent reviving myself, the few promising moments of hard-won comradery fell headfirst into the dark, abysmal void. My mind went blank for a fleeting moment that lasted an eternity. 

_Stoic_ was a particularly terrifying expression to me. Anyone capable of looking so hard hearted struck such fear in my heart. I could feel myself start to shake under the weight of the sharp, unreadable stare Kuroo was boring into me. It was too hot, too hot to focus, and so very unbearable that I could feel deeply ashamed tears welling up behind my eyes. 

I choked on millions of broken, adamant apologies, but Kuroo stood up, finished with me for the time being. He turned and headed for the door without a word, leaving me to grip the bedsheets in attempt to hold myself together. I tried to speak with the last of my rapidly dwindling strength but no coherency would come forth. 

“Look who I found, Kenma,” Kuroo announced, pushing the door open with an unenthusiastic swat. He didn’t even care too look.

Behind the door stood a small, thin boy with huge, tare eyes and fiery red hair who looked so excited he could hardly stand it. He had both hands clamped tightly over his mouth, barely holding back his voice. His whole body quaked with the effort of staying quiet, but as soon as he saw me, the dam burst. 

“KENMA!!” he cried, punching the air.

“Sho-- argh!” Suddenly my lap was filled with a dangerously energetic Hinata Shouyou. Two legs parted and rejoined behind me, mirrored by his arms as he pulled me into a hug tighter than a boa constrictor. 

“Kenma! Kenma! Oh my god I miss you so much! Where have you gone! Natsu was so sad when I told her you quit the volleyball team! She cried! I might’ve cried too… But that’s not the point. Gosh, never leave me again!!!!!” 

“Shouyou,” I gasped, looking over his shoulder at Kuroo who stood completely still, the same hard expression on his face. I rubbed between his shoulderblades to calm him just the slightest bit, “I missed you too.” 

“I’ll let you two catch up,” Kuroo dismissed himself, “I’ll be back in a few hours.” I watched over Hinata’s shoulder as he practically _ran_ for the door. “Try not to break anything or blow a gasket, Chibi-chan,” he added flatly. And with that he was gone, leaving me alone with my gift. 

Hinata peeled away from our embrace to look me over, smiling a smile so contagious, I usually found myself smiling too. The way his big brown eyes creased at the edges always brightened my mood. Even that scary setter from Karasuno seemed to calm a bit at Hinata’s smile, that much I remember. 

The last I’ve seen of Hinata or any of the members of Karasuno’s volleyball team was two years ago when I was sixteen. Hinata, being fifteen at the time, had been small, gangly, and unrefined as a volleyball player. He was stronger now, still very thin but he’d grown quite a bit. He was definitely taller than I was, standing at about 5’9.

I wanted to smile back at him with every fiber of my being. I could feel the need for warm regard from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. But I couldn’t _breathe._ I could feel the look in Kuroo’s eyes buzzing around in my head. Bitter remorse was collapsing my lungs. Burning hot tears bubbled out from behind my eyes that were quickly going bloodshot. And the fact that Hinata had to watch broke my heart.

Hinata’s cheery smile sank into a concerned frown, his brow knitting and hands coming up to wipe away my tears and tangle into my hair. I coughed and sputtered, desperately trying to hold back a pitiful whine that was coming up fast. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked innocently, peering into my eyes in case my voice couldn’t answer. The last of my resolve crumbled down and a shuttering sob relieved the pressure building up in my chest. My cheeks, nose, and ears turned bright red and burned horribly. 

Hinata remained silent, pulling me in to weep into his chest. I knew he could feel the thick stiffness of my bandaged arms, he must’ve had his suspicions but he said nothing. He calmed the little shiverings from my spine, rubbing my shoulder blades and running his fingers through my hair. 

“I ruined everything,” I whimpered, quietly astonished by how quickly I was able to form words. 

“Tell me from the beginning?” he offered, leaving my lap to sit beside me. He crossed his legs, ducking down to see my eyes under my hair. Even now he still managed a sad yet optimistic smile. 

“I-It’s a long story,” I sniffed, roughly passing the back of my hand over my eyes and nose, refusing to look up at him; I knew he’d be smiling like he was still so happy to see me, even though we haven’t been together five minutes and I’m already over-emotional. 

“I’ve got loads of time!” he encouraged, throwing an arm around me and resting his temple on my shoulder. 

“I haven’t had any friends in two years,” I explained to a mop of red hair, seeing that I wouldn’t be spared, “After I quit the team, they wanted nothing to do with me. And I acted like I didn’t care but…” I could feel the sadness creeping in again, not quite cried out yet, “S-So I ended up so lonely and I couldn’t stop it from happening. It happened so fast--” 

Hinata’s free hand snaked up to drift over my wrist, running the ends of his fingers over the bandage, showing me he understood. He untangled my hands as they wrung themselves out, holding tightly to one and waiting for the rest of my story. 

“Kuroo saw me just before. The first time he came over in two years was to find me in my room. The doctors thought I should come here with him for the summer because I need a friend. It was going so well, I finally felt like myself again and I ruined it--”

“I really doubt that, Kenma,” he interrupted, pulling a long, almost scandalized face. “Look at me,” he ordered, and I complied, looking in his general direction and settled my gaze on his collarbones. He huffed a bit at my stubbornness, “I remember how you two were at matches against Karasuno. I didn’t really know Kuroo as a person but I could tell you meant the world to him. There’s nothing you can do to break that, Kenma. It’s too deep inside both him and me. We care about you too much to change our minds now.” 

Passion was one of the only things that could make Hinata Shouyou really frown. His cheeks had gone ruddy as his blood ran hot and fast through his veins. He stared at me with such determination to make me feel better I was forced to look up to absorb the full effect of Hinata’s proclamation. 

“Now tell me what happened to make you think like that,” he ordered. I knew he wouldn’t force me, but there was something about him that I was drawn to and always have been. 

“I…” I could feel my throat tightening as I imagined how Hinata’s vision of me would change. He imagined me now as a quiet, obviously suicidal videogame addict that used to play volleyball. He knew my food preferences, my favorite colors, the little details that made up my personality. Most of all he knew I was asexual. But am I still? What in my subconscious dictated whether or not I cared for the company of others in that way? Was it possible to simply stop being something I believed to be ingrained in my very personality?

“You can tell me anything,” he reminded me with a sunny smile that creased his eyes. 

“I overdid it on my sleep medication last night,” I beat around the bush. Hinata’s smile decreased in happiness but he was still glad I was saying something and not shutting down. I swallowed thickly and braced for his reaction, “When he came to wake me up I wasn’t fully awake yet and I think I kissed him.”

Hinata’s smile fell away completely, lips forming a pensive line. “Oh,” was the best way he knew to respond. The quiet in the room and the ocean waves outside combined into a whirring, buzzing sound that set off a familiar ache in my chest and behind my eyes. 

“He hates me,” I catastrophized, losing the battle against an oncoming panic attack, “What does any of this even mean?” A cold sweat gathered at the nape of my neck, gluing my hair to my skin. My heart beat rapidly increased. My throat was closing up which scared my heart into beating even faster. 

“Well, do you like him?”

“No!” I shouted. I shook my head and clawed at my heart, worrying it may stop completely, “Well I guess but-- I don’t know.”

Recognizing all the signs, Hinata threw his arms over me and whispered little distracting nothings into my ears, reminding me that I was still alive. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, talking me out of frightened panic, “Let’s talk about something else, okay? Everything will work out.”

“Okay,” I huffed, sucking in as much air as I could, trying to inflate my lungs. I cleared my mind as best I could, forcing myself to think of some other subject to talk about. “What are you doing in Okinawa, Shouyou?” I tried to ask, struggling to fully calm down. 

“I’m on vacation, too,” He replied, encouraging me to sit up so he could hug me properly, “You’ll have to come see Natsu! She misses you so much and asks about you all the time!”

I remembered Hinata Natsu. She was essentially a younger version of her brother, sharing the same wild hair and brown eyes. Whenever I visited Hinata in the town he lived in, Natsu always beat him to the door, greeting me with a tight hug to one of my legs. 

“Really..?” I found myself wanting to smile. 

..

When my heart stopped fluttering, we chatted about nothing in particular. Hinata told stories about Karasuno to hell and back, including bold gestures and different voices signifying different people. I tossed in little tangents about school and different games I thought he would like, but mostly listened to him unload everything I’d missed from his life in the last few years. Eventually we were sprawled out on my bed, staring at the ceiling and playing I Spy.

“I’m _hungry!_ ” Hinata complained, staring up at the ceiling and wailing his displeasure. He inhaled rather dramatically and groaned again. He wiggled off the bed, dragging himself to a standing position, and with one hand thoughtfully passing through fiery locks, he opened up my closet door and rooted around inside. 

“What are you doing?” My eyes followed him as he searched through my clothes. I sat up with guarded interest, though I knew deep inside that I had nothing to worry about, this was Shouyou after all. I didn’t have to hide from him. 

“Finding you clothes so we can go out,” he replied. He looked over his shoulder at me. His quick-moving hands slowed to a stop. “You don’t mind do you?” he asked, “Sorry, I should’ve asked first.” Hinata watched me, unable to hide the small smile that brightened up his face whenever he looked at me. And for the moment, I welcomed the affections of my friend. I let his smile warm the sheer, cold, frightful anxiety that had stolen me mere seconds before he came back into my life. I repressed the thought of the wide rift I had created between Kuroo and I with one misstep. 

“No no, go ahead,” I answered, astonished by how quickly Hinata and I had resumed our friendship. He grinned at me, wide and happy, before poking his nose back into my closet.

“Aww, you packed your volleyball shoes!?” With his upper half still leaned into the closet, he produced my old, worn out volleyball shoes, holding them out for me to see. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” I replied, though I honestly had no idea how they’d gotten there. I distinctly remembered passing over them in my packing. 

_Mom must’ve brought them…_ I dismissed, figuring that that was probably the case. 

“What is _this?!_ ”

Hinata emerged from behind the closet door, his brown eyes blown as wide as they could go. He held a simple, light blue sundress in his hands. Seeing it made my heart turn to lead and sink swiftly through my chest and into my stomach. I couldn’t breathe, let alone begin to explain how strange and freakish I’d become. How did it even end up here, on a _hanger?_

_Mother…!_

_.._

_“Whatcha lookin’ at Kenma?” Mom asked when she felt my presence beside her disappear. She looked back at me, paused in front of a shop window. She took a few steps back to join me, following my gaze to see what I saw. A little blue dress covered in cornflowers stood on a stand towards the back of the stop. I didn’t know why it had caught my eye but there was something about it that I admired._

_“That one?” Mom pointed to the dress through the storefront window. I nodded. “It’s cute.” I nodded again._

_“Too bad I don’t have a sister,” I shrugged. Starting to walk away from the store and set back on our way, but Mom stopped me with a dreamy, glowing smile._

_“You don’t want it?” she asked rather cryptically._

_“I’m a boy.”_

_She shrugged and dropped the subject much easier than usual, but I didn’t question it until a dark mauve shopping bag appeared in my bedroom the very next day. Inside was the little dress covered in cornflowers._

..

“Kenma…?” Hinata’s shock melted into concern as he watched my cheeks turn red and my eyes go wide. 

“I-I… I don’t know what--” I tried to explain, remembering the day that dress came into my life and nearly _hating_ my mom for sneaking it to Miyako. “I’ve only worn it once and it was inside where no one could see. I didn’t want anyone to know, you have to believe--”

“Hey,” Hinata crossed the room to sit beside me, dress in hand, “Kenma it’s okay.”

“No it’s not. It’s weird. I’m weird--”

“Try it on,” he whispered with the same dreamy, glowing smile Mom had the day we discovered it. He had this genuine, safe look in his eyes that I didn’t think I’d ever see from another person that wasn’t Mom. “I’ll wait outside okay?” He stood up to leave while I changed out of my pajamas. 

“Y-Yeah, okay…” I found myself agreeing with the soft security he seemed to radiate. My biggest secret was out, yet Hinata still looked at me the way he always did, like I was the only other person in the world.

I found myself staring into my own eyes before the mirror affixed to my closet door, seeing my whole self, and holding the dress. I could see the boy in the mirror. He was small, thin, pale with pudding colored hair. Golden eyes that saw everything and nothing were the only ‘lovely’ thing about him, if I could even call them lovely. I saw him and he saw me. We’re the same, but at the same time, we weren’t. It didn’t _feel_ like me. I knew it was, but at the same time, I knew it wasn’t.

I looked at the dress, held it in my hands, traced the little blue flowers with my fingers. It was still just as lovely as it had been when I first saw it. I knew I wanted it from the start, just to know that I owned something with simple yet complete beauty, even if no one else would get to admire it but me. 

I threw it on, trying not to think about how vulnerable I was in this moment. I focused on how soft it was against my skin, how I was briefly pleased with the fact that I hadn’t grown much in these past few years. It still fit like a glove.

Being slight had its perks. Even the definite lack of curves my body offered, small hips and narrow shoulders managed to create just enough slender shape to fill out this little sleeve of a dress. It hugged tightly to my waist, pulling away to end just above my knees. a strand of fabric separated the scoop in the back that left my shoulder blades bare and the small of my back. I even enjoyed the length of my hair as it barely kissed the tops of my shoulders, completing the look rather well. It was times like this when I was actually happy in not being very masculine. 

The person staring back at me through the mirror had started to feel a little like me. And I couldn’t help but smile to myself. A little knock on the door reminded me of Hinata’s presence. The little smile on my lips disappeared.

“Come in…”

He couldn’t contain the inevitable gasp of surprise that I knew would leave him. The same one had left Mom when she first saw. 

“Oh, Kenma,” he whispered, big brown eyes going wide and wet, lighting up with their own galaxies of stars. “Gosh, you look-- I don’t even know. I’m speechless.”

“Thanks.” Red hot modesty and the absence of self esteem brightened my cheeks and ears. “Shouyou, why are you being so nice to me.” I asked, looking for a way to wrap my head around all this so I can either accept or repress the whole situation. He appeared beside me in the mirror, throwing his arm around over my shoulders like a proud older brother. He subtly ran his fingers across my shoulder, comparing the softness of my skin to the softness of the dress. 

“A lot has changed since you’ve been gone,” he explained, squeezing my shoulder, “I’ll talk about it if you want, but it’s okay if you don’t. I can tell this is a little much for you.” I burned with questions. Such a cryptic way of explaining things was so unlike him and I could feel the fascination bubble up in my chest but I suppressed it, letting him tell me when he was ready like he would for me.

“Come here,” he crossed my bedroom to stand at one of the windows, looking out. I joined him to hopefully see what he saw, looking for some enlightenment. “See that black and gold awning?” he asked, pointing to a little village about a half mile in the distance. "That’s a pretty good ramen restaurant. It’s close. Wanna go?”

“Uh, Shouyou,” I whined, cringing at the thought of going outside and taking a step back from the window, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” I dreaded the very notion of seeing anyone I knew, of seeing _Kuroo_. Even if I changed my clothes I still didn’t want to leave the house. But just when I entertained the idea of hiding away and ordering food, Mom’s voice played in my head.

_Your first chat with Yanagi’s partner is on Monday at 3pm! Dr. Madoka will be waiting!_

“I have a therapy session at three,” I whispered, closing my eyes and praying for a way out. But Hinata and his never-ending patience and willingness to compromise merely smiled and adjusted his plan. 

“Then we’ll have to get moving!” he chirped, “And it’s okay if you don’t want to go in this. But I think you look great, for what it’s worth.”

..

I’ve never been more grateful for chuck taylors in my entire life. Beat up and sandy, fading around the edges, my chucks drew no suspicion at all. I was walking in broad daylight, holding the hand of my reinstated best friend, the ray of sunshine in the dark hole I’d dug myself into, and no one cared or even noticed. Sunlight warmed my skin, sea breezes caught the edges of my skirt as we strolled by. 

“Shouyou,” I asked, catching his attention. He hummed his acknowledgement. “You said a lot had changed back at the house. What did that mean?” It seemed safe to ask, now.

He cast his eyes down to meet mine, lips still curled up in a small smile. “Want the long story or the short?” he replied simply. 

“Long, please,” I answered quickly, surprised at how easily he could tell me things. He sighed, looking ahead to the little beach town we were headed to and reminiscing with a happy smile.

“It started off just between Tobio and I,” he started. I remembered Tobio as the setter for Karasuno’s volleyball team back in the day. I nodded my understanding. When Hinata’s smile sharpened into a mischievous smirk, I was hooked. Gossip was around the corner and I was _never_ invited to gossip.

“He has a _thing_ for school girls,” Hinata revealed with a wink, laughing at the pink blush that heated my cheeks. My eyes skittered away from his, even squeezing shut to stop myself from imagining Hinata doing intimate things with the scariest setter alive.

“I didn’t mind giving it a try,” he went on, teasing me one last time before moving along with the story, “I actually brought a few skirts to Okinawa too, even though I wouldn’t normally go out in them back home. But, I don’t know anyone in Okinawa, and they don’t know me. You don’t have to worry because you’ll never see these people again.” 

I contemplated this when we approached the little town. Hinata flashed his smile at passers-by and I stayed quiet to avoid suspicion. Children ran down the street, chasing a kite that had wiggled free of indiligent hands, laughing and carrying on like all children should. A group of tourists with pale skin and blue eyes wandered around, headed by an english speaking tour guide pointing out every little thing they saw.

“You and the setter?” I asked Hinata, trying and failing to make good conversation. Half in the middle of mentally kicking myself for asking a stupid question, Hinata gave my hand a squeeze.

“He isn’t all that bad once you get to know him,” he said. Memories filled his chest, made him stand tall and happy, proud to belong to someone else. 

A sinking feeling landed in my stomach, I kind of wanted to belong to someone too...

We found the office on the white business card the doctor at the hospital had given me pretty easily. His partner was going to be my therapist; Dr. Madoka. We walked into an open waiting room with a reception desk, a woman wearing red lipstick sat behind it with a fake smile. She greeted us a little too warmly, flicking her eyes over the bandages that ruined the sweetness of my dress with obvious violence. I shrank, feeling her eyes judge me, playing out possible explanations and imaging scenarios.

“Alright!” Hinata called out in the quiet waiting room, startling me, “I’ll be right here when you get out!”

“Okay,” I agreed, reluctant to let his fingers slip from me.

“Hey,” his hand tightened up around mine just for a moment longer. “It’s really great to have you back Kenma. And I’m so proud of you, you’re so brave.” The chill that permanently resided in the back of my mind swelled with almost overwhelming heat. 

_Someone is proud of me…?_

“Now go get ‘em!” Hinata cheered with an all out grin, chuffed to bits. I turned to the receptionist who nodded enthusiastically, pointing me in the direction of the office. I looked back at Hinata, feeling that heat grow bigger and stronger by the second, then wandered down the hall and into the office.


	6. Jitsugen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost gave up on this story. i still kinda want to but...

“I-I didn’t mean to,” I worked to keep my voice even, digging my nails into my knees, but nothing worked. Clawing at myself only wrinkled the soft blue fabric that covered my thighs and jostled my forearms, making the bandages rub at the skin below. 

Dr. Madoka had raised a questioning, curious brow at the way I’d presented myself in our very first meeting. He’d likely never seen a boy in a dress before, but let the subject go in favor of discussing more pressing issues. He was a small, round man with sunkissed skin and a rapidly receding hairline, though he sported a large, greying moustache to compensate. He sat across from me in a large leather armchair, eyes drifting down and settling on my bandages every so often. He never mentioned them, or my choice in clothing just yet. He only listened.

“I didn’t even know what was going on,” I tried to defend myself, my actions from earlier today, “But he would never believe that, would he?” I could feel the anxiety tightening in my chest. “Oh, God,” I moaned, feeling sick to my stomach, “Please don’t let him hate me.”A weathered hand came to rest on my shoulder. A deep and pensive voice offered its thoughts.

“You don’t want to lose him, do you?”

I shook my head, the movement making me even more dizzy.

“Because that would devastate you, right?”

I groaned my agreement.

“Even if you still had that fine young man out there in the waiting room right now--”

“It’s not the same,” I huffed, finally finding the courage to sit up and look the doctor in the eye, or at least in his general direction. I sniffed, rubbing my eyes red and raw with the back of my hand. Inside me, shame tied itself in knots that sank to the void in my belly. I hated to cry in front of a stranger. I hated to impose my helpless hopelessness on other people. It was a burden to them, I was a burden. But he was my therapist, I needed to tell him the things that bothered me, right?

“Kenma, may I ask you something?” Madoka asked evenly, “It may be a bit personal,” he warned, giving full disclosure before I was left to make a decision. The panicky cogs stopped turning in my mind for a brief moment, and I nodded quietly, allowing him to ask his question.

“Have you ever wanted more from your relationship with Kuroo?”

The meaning of his words wouldn’t register. My eyes narrowed in confusion. My hands stopped their wrestling with each other at the absolutely foreign idea of contemplating the boundaries of my tenuous friendship with Kuroo. Never before had I even entertained the idea of testing the limits, or even defining them to begin with.

“What do you mean?” I asked dumbly, failing to understand though deep down it was clear as day. Madoka paused, searching his vocabulary for the perfect words to convey his point exactly how he felt it needed to be understood.

“Do you think of him as more than a friend?” 

Another blankness, another fogging of the mind stopped me from fully grasping the concepts he offered to me. “We’re just normal friends-- we _were_ normal friends,” I tried to reason out. I raked my fingers through my hair, holding my head in my hands when it felt too heavy for my spine to bear. 

“Forgive me if I overstep my boundaries but the closeness you share isn’t that of mere friendship,” my therapist disagreed. My eyes ached in their sockets but I strained to look at him. I dropped my gaze with a denying whine when he raised a brow and added, “I take it that you haven’t yet told me the exact extent of this closeness just yet.” 

My grip on my hair tightened, my eyes squeezed shut, all in attempt to drive out new and vivid images that skipped past my vision like an old film reel. Old memories of Kuroo and I chatting the day away in my room took unforeseen turns in ways I knew they never actually went, but it shocked me to think that _I_ had the capacity to conjure such rich and complete scenarios.

“I’m asexual,” I excused, mostly to myself to put all this to rest. But Madoka had the practice and wisdom to combat my denial.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to want to mean something to someone else,” he reassured, watching carefully as realization finally dawned on me. Needless to say, a red-hot, itching blush burned its way across my cheeks, down my neck, and over my ears. 

_Of course _there was something different. Even with how fond of him I was, Hinata would never reach the level of trust I’d had with Kuroo. I’d always assumed it was because we’d been friends for so long, but it was clear now that I simply didn’t need anyone else. I wasn’t good at meeting new people because, in a rather dismal and antisocial way, I already had someone that could fill every role I needed him to fill.__

“Now what,” I questioned flatly, hiding my face in my hands. 

“Professionally, I’d say you should talk to him, but it’s up to you,” I swallowed a lump of fear when he suggested we talk, but relaxed when it became optional. “Lay off the sleep meds for now and come back in a week. Call me if anything goes wrong. Or if anything goes right! Call me whenever you like, Kenma. It was great to meet you. I can see it right now, you’re going to get better. You’re going to come out of this.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” I murmured politely, standing to leave. It took a moment of stillness and breathing to will the tremor from my legs and stand straight like a normal human. “See you in a week.” I ended with a halfhearted wave. Madoka smiled and returned it. 

“See you soon.” 

* * *

“How did it go?” Hinata asked with a cheerful smile. He swung an arm around my shoulders, hugging out any negative energy just in case my answer was dismal. 

“I don’t know…” was all I could say. 

We nodded our polite goodbyes to the overly-excited receptionist on our way out the door. The summer sun shone high in the sky, even as the day progressed into evening. As promised, I stood quietly beside Hinata while he ordered two of everything on the menu at the ramen place. I tried to laugh at the silly faces he made in attempt to snare rogue noodles with his tongue. We ended up packing half-eaten bowls of ramen and untouched appetizers up and saving them for later, in favor of wandering around the markets for a spell. 

Every so often, my eyes would wander, counting the prying gazes of passers-by, but Hinata would catch me and change the subject, distracting me enough to make me let go of my surroundings if just for a little while. We chatted about random little thoughts that would pop up in Hinata’s mind. I was taken on quite the adventure, trying to follow the most wild train of thought I’d ever known. His stories would start with a little observation he’d make about something in the market and end deeply and philosophically. By the time we approached the steps of the villa I’d made my temporary home, I found myself feeling a little sad. 

“Bye Kenma!” Hinata sang, leaving me at my door with an armful of leftover food and little knick-knacks from the market, “Beach tomorrow right? Call me when you wake up!” 

I returned his smile, doing my best to shake off the loneliness that had started to creep in just knowing he would leave and I would have to face Kuroo. There was no way to avoid it. After all these years, he’d been the only one who could read me. I couldn’t possibly lie to him now, especially with the whole reason we reunited. 

“See you tomorrow, Shouyou.” I waved goodbye, watching him run off towards the cottage he was staying in for the summer. 

When I tried the door it was already open. Kuroo must’ve gotten home before me. I crept inside, quiet as a mouse, for fear that he may see me. I wanted to change before he discovered me. We had enough to talk about as it was. The last thing I wanted was to let him see how different I’d become. 

I slipped through the door, closing it behind me without a sound, and headed for the stairs when I heard a long, exhausted groan interrupt the silence. It had come from the kitchen. With curiosity my weak willpower couldn’t contend with, I stilled and eventually peeked around the corner that separated the foyer from the rest of the complex. 

“Tooru. I can't do this. I need backup.” Kuroo leaned against the kitchen counter, pressing his phone to his cheek harder than he had to, attempting to force the urgency in his voice through the airwaves. “Yeah well I was wrong,” he groaned defiantly, looking to the ceiling for a solution to his problem. 

I stood as still as a statue, hiding around the corner and listening intently. I remembered Tooru, more commonly known as Oikawa, or even _Trashikawa_ by his teammates. He was loud for no reason, egocentric, lacked any idea of personal space. Towards the end of my volleyball career, Kuroo had taught him how to behave around me and he improved in his level of obnoxiousness. He and Kuroo had always been friends, the type of friends that acted like they got on each other’s nerves. I never quite understood it, but Oikawa seemed to be the more helpful friend in this case. I wondered what the problem was, even wanted to see if I could help, but the sinking feeling in my stomach told me it had something to do with me. 

“Y’know he kissed me this morning?” The shock and gossip in his voice sucked all the moisture from my mouth. From ten feet away, I could _hear_ the unbelieving laughter on the other line, the amused snickering that always accompanied everything I did. And if I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Kuroo added, “And I saw him in the market wearing a _dress!_ A dress Tooru! With little fucking flowers on it!” 

I clamped my hands down over my mouth, but a gasp slipped through my fingers. Kuroo silenced for a wary second, listening to the house settle for signs of life, but dismissed the sudden sound as a gust of personified wind. 

“You should've seen it man, it was… It was something special.” I recognized that nervous laughter, the one he only made when he didn’t know what else to do. He ran a hand through wild, untameable hair, crossing his ankles and dropping his voice. “I don’t know,” he said seriously, “I thought I could handle this but it’s been so long.” He paused to listen to a rather lengthy dissertation from Oikawa. 

“He doesn't know!” Kuroo corrected with an exasperated sigh, “He doesn’t know and I don't know how to tell him. I'm not sure how to talk to him. Everything's... Different. All I know is he spends one day with Hinata and now he's wearing dresses. I don’t know what that kid told him but-- Just -- get your ass over here. To help me do something about it!” 

_He was calling someone else to help deal with me? I needed to be dealt with?_

“Fine,” Kuroo agreed curtly, “Yeah whatever. Ugh, love you too. Bye.” 

By the time his phone conversation ended I was already up the stairs and locked behind my bedroom door, all without making a sound. With my heart beating out of my chest, I ripped the dress up over my head, tossing it into a corner, wishing it would disappear from my sight. I kicked off my shoes and jumped into bed, hiding from the sunlight under a thick, down comforter. Only my wrists could look back at me now. They reminded me of why I was here. What I meant, all I amounted to. To them, I was depressed and confused. But at least they had some idea of what to call me. To me, I was nothing at all. 


	7. Bedheads

Silence, I’ve mastered. Quiet came naturally to me. Speaking had become entirely voluntary. All I had to do was find something better to pay attention to than engaging in conversation. It was videogames up until very recently. Now it was sleeping. With two sleeping pills at 9am and two sleeping pills at 9pm, the ratio between lethargy and antidepressants grew in difference. I could see the portions of synthetic sleep going down and the happy pills remaining the same. I could take them, but what was the point if all I wanted to do was sleep and forget. I’ll sleep out the summer if I can. 

But I can’t. Not while Shouyou and I are on the same island. 

I’d missed our day at the beach, didn’t answer his calls nor the door when he came knocking. He’d dropped by ten minutes after his fifth worried message. When no one answered the door, he lingered a moment then went home, dragging his feet as he went. 

Three days have passed. Three days of absolute, total silence. 

Kuroo had knocked on my door thrice since the beginning of my campaign to molder away in the dark. On the first day, he came to ask what I wanted for dinner, trying the door when I didn’t answer immediately and discover it locked. He’d looped around through his bedroom to try the balcony door, but that was locked too. 

He tried the door again the next day to encourage me to come switch my bandages, using my recovery schedule to his advantage. He’d hoped to sort things out during this mandatory exchange, but on his way to the bathroom to bring the process to me, he discovered two dirtied bandages, shed like a layer of dead skin, and four less sleeping pills. 

Yesterday was his final attempt, frantically trying the door and begging me to show some sign of life. I flicked on my bedside lamp, and he groaned a frustration I’d never heard in his voice before. He hasn’t been back since.

* * *

I heard the rough pounding of fists against the front door but felt no motivation to stand and answer. I did listen to the sound of Kuroo lumbering to the door and Hinata trying to push past him. He called my name up the stairs, but I didn’t answer. 

“He’s been like that for days,” Kuroo explained in a thick, cottony voice, addled by sleeplessness and worried confusion. Hinata was instantly frustrated by Kuroo’s lack of enthusiasm.

“You have to go talk to him! What if he needs us!?” he cried, delivering an almost pathetic shove to Kuroo’s shoulder. He wouldn’t budge. 

“I tried, the door’s locked. I--” Hinata groaned, swiftly slamming the heel of his hand into Kuroo’s chest. When the wind left his lungs, he curled into himself in pain and disbelief, watching Hinata run up the stairs and start pounding on the door. 

“Kenma, let me in or I’ll kick this door down and make you pay for it!”

“I’m tellin’ you, Chibi-chan, it’s not gonna open--”

But it did, just the smallest bit. With a click of the latch, the door to my room creaked open. Darkness oozed out from the cracks, hissing at the light and running back to the dismal confines of my cave. My ray of sunshine was brave in entering my lair, knowing the chances of my contagious sadness infecting him. He may never be seen again, but he didn’t care and closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.

Kuroo watched from the bottom of the stairs, choking on astonished woe.

* * *

Not a single ray of light penetrated the nebulous force field that swallowed up my bedroom. Hinata saw nothing in the lurid void he’d courageously stepped into. He heard nothing over the disorienting white noise of the ceiling fan spinning at a million miles an hour. The icy air sent shivers up his spine. 

“Kenma…?”

I shifted in my bed, sniffing quietly and reaching for my bedside lamp. The sudden dim light startled Hinata, who whirled around with a gasp. Seeing me put tears in his eyes. 

With movements slowed with heavy doses of medication, I pushed myself up into a sitting position. My eyes were swollen and red, finally cried out for the time being. My hair stuck up and out at odd angles, some of it even glued to my face. But what caught Hinata’s attention was the darkening blood caked under the nails of my right hand. The bandage holding my left wrist together had been displaced by frantic fingers searching below.

“It’s itchy,” I explained in a thin, soft voice.

Hinata swallowed the urge to cry, cautiously joining me on my bed, pulling my hand away from my wrist and preventing further damage. Thin fingers traced the ridges of the thick bandages wrapped tightly around my forearms. Shamefulness held me tight, forcing me to watch the dots connect in Hinata’s mind. Molten hot panic sent a bright red to flush my cheeks, nose and ears as I searched for something to say. 

“Kenma, I failed you…” he whimpered, “I told you I’d give you a reason to be excited. I’d make you say ‘I had fun!’ or ‘that was a blast!’ remember?”

Any words I could’ve said disappeared from me. Nothing in my vocabulary could convey how badly I wanted him to know that this wasn’t his fault. I shook my head, hearing marbles collide in my skull like I was some sick, confused maraca. Hinata took a breath, steadying himself to be strong for me. 

“What made you do it?” he asked as evenly as possible. I shrugged my shoulders, unable to decide between the thousands of reasons I had for my silence. 

“I can’t take the loneliness…”

“I’m here. Kuroo’s here--” I cringed. My hands flew up to cover my eyes, to press their heels into my sockets to will away the vivid scene replaying in my mind. 

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Hinata questioned cautiously, gently pulling my hands away to look at me. I kept my eyes screwed tight, damming up the inevitable, overwhelmed tears. 

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied shortly. 

“Yes it does.”

I groaned. The firmness of Hinata’s voice reminded me of Mom, of my therapist even, neither of them would simply let me be. All they wanted from me was the truth, I know that. They want to help me. If only it wasn’t so difficult to accept it. 

“He was talking to Tooru about me over the phone,” I admitted. “He saw us in the market and told him about that dress. Told him everything. They laughed at me. He said he didn’t know how to deal with me and begged Tooru to come save him from being alone with someone like me.” 

A feverish feeling bubbled in my stomach, remembering the way I’d felt upon hearing Kuroo sound so laid out, so thrown for a loop. I never meant to be so hard for him to bear. I knew now that that may be because I cared for him a little more than the usual friend… As much as I tried to make this easy, the worse off I became. 

“You have to talk to him,” Hinata broke to me softly, “You have to tell him what he did wrong because I don’t think he knows. He’s been sitting outside your room wondering what happened for three days.”

“I can’t. I can’t go out there. I can’t talk to him or I’ll…” I choked, cut myself off just short of accidentally explaining what conclusions I’d come to in my very first, eye opening, therapy session. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself let alone anyone else. But Hinata was on to me.

“What?” he asked, soft and sweet to encourage me to share, “It’s okay, you can tell me.” He hugged me so close and tight, I could feel his heart beating. All the love in that soul of his could fill every empty hole in mine, could make me capable of loving others in the same wholeness, but that made me _sick_. 

“I just can’t, Shouyou,” I snapped, feeling so disgusted with the idea of offering up a part of myself to someone else the same as Shouyou did all the time. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Disappointment oozed from every pore like he was a sponge soaking up all my sadness until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

I didn’t understand the unfamiliarity of this new feeling that coursed through my veins. Giving it a name, Love, was something I simply couldn’t comprehend. How dare we uncover such debilitating fact. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t be that person. How could I love someone else when I don’t even love myself? Or did I love them so much that I knew I’d suffocate them? 

“I have to go,” Hinata announced, ruling the end of today’s activities together, “Tobio’s waiting for me at the cottage. Call me if you need me.” 

The later was correct. Because I cared so deeply for Hinata, I couldn’t bring myself to be honest. I was so afraid of being an emotional burden on someone so light and happy. I loved him so much, with such force and urgency that I would snuff out that flame. It was better for us this way. Being sad alone was better than bringing down others. 

Unable to produce any more tears, I cried painful, weeping moans as Hinata retreated from my den of despair. I watched him disappear into the light and life of a sunny Miyako Summer’s day, knowing I wasn’t strong enough to follow.

Just as he’d said, the door rebounded against Kuroo’s shoulder as he lied in wait, straining his ears to hear my voice. His eyes caught mine for the first time in three days, except this time he knew exactly what had caused this bout of misery. I stared at him with red, puffy eyes; words stuck behind the floodgates of my throat. My nails dug into my calves as they tried to squeeze away the unbearable, lonely ache that sucked up my insides like a vacuum. 

“Kenma, please let me help you,” Kuro’s voice forced itself lower, straining his larynx and trying to keep calm. But I knew that voice, he was trying to be strong. Trying not to show me how affected he was. “I know you’re not into, like, physical contact and stuff. But there’s gotta be something. I can’t stand to see you so utterly lonely just a room away.” He tensed, using every inch of his willpower to stay still, not to march toward me and smother me in a tight hug. He worked so hard, hard enough to make the strain in his muscles visible. I could see his chest, shoulders, and biceps flex and hold their position. And I had to suppress a look of surprise when I felt _my_ muscles tense, as if to stand and make my way to him. I swallowed a gasp, hiding my face in my knees and behind thin, blond locks of hair. 

“You can’t,” I forced myself to say with as much conviction as possible. 

“But, Kenma--”

“Just get out, Kuroo,” I wailed, screwing my eyes shut, “Stop pretending to care and leave me alone. It’s enough that I’m stuck here all summer.” 

A soft sigh and tired footsteps were the last I heard before my door closed, he’d done what I’d asked for the first time ever. And I felt horrible.

* * *

Kuroo sat in his bedroom for the remainder of the day and well into the evening, listening to miserable sounds leave me, gaining and losing volume with sudden bursts of exhaustion or energy. But he didn’t move, didn’t stand to go to me. Instead he hid below his own fortress of blankets and sheets. He stared blankly out the window, the idea of stealing a pill or two vaguely crossing his mind. It had been a long time since he’d last been in this position, hiding in bed with his head sandwiched between two pillows to drown out the noise. He’d been very young, back when his parents used to fight like cats and dogs.

He could stay like this for hours, abandoning food and even bathroom breaks in favor of this small respite of quiet, or at least as much quiet as two pillows could provide. Not many people knew about the great Tetsuroo Kuroo’s strange coping mechanism. Most just assumed his wild hair was either a style choice or a symptom of teenage laziness. 

Even when my conscious lamentations turned to screams in my sleep, he would not stand. Because I told him not to come to me, I made it quite clear. He wouldn’t disobey any serious order from me. They were so few and far between that he had to comply, even when his entire being ached for the screaming to end.

* * *

_Hello, Darling! How’s the trip so far?_

“M-Mom..?” I half whispered into the receiver of my phone, “I want to go home.”

_Oh, baby, what’s wrong?_

“I don’t like it here,” I sighed, all cried out for once, “My arms hurt. It’s too much and I just want to go home.”

_I wish I could help you, baby, but the doctors think this will be good for you. You need to learn to make positive connections with people that aren’t me._

“But--”

_Have you thought about speaking to Kuroo about this? He’s here to help you._

“I can’t, Mom. I can’t talk to him. I tried but--” I choked up a sob as the floodgates began to pry themselves open once again. 

_Kenma, shhhh… It’s alright. You’re okay._

“What do I do? He’s exactly the same, Mom. He’s still all cocky and outgoing and he had all this _faith_ in me. All the sudden he was here for me again like we never stopped being friends, like it never happened, but I’m so different. I’m ruined. I’m so sad, Mom. I’m the thing that keeps bringing him--”

_That’s enough, Kozume Kenma. I don’t want to hear that poison come out of your mouth again, you hear me? Kuroo feels horrible for abandoning you, don’t you see that? That’s why he dropped everything to do this for you. He wants to be there for you. Now what brought all this up?_

“He saw me… In the dress.”

“You saw it? Good! How did it look?” 

“Mom! How could you!” I snapped at her without much threat, “I heard him talking to Tooru on the phone. They _laughed at me_ , Mom! I ran up to my room to be alone, but Hinata came looking for me. He’s here too, in Miyako. I was cold to him and I hurt his feelings. When he left Kuroo came in all worried. I told him to l-leave me alone and he walked out…”

_...Oh, Kenma. When did this happen?_

“Around 6pm.”

_Now, baby, I know you don’t want to, but you need to go talk to him._

“But--”

_Remember when you were young, Kenma? Before the divorce..? You used to invite him over every night and play together without a care in the world. He taught you how to toss to him, and you showed him how to play smash bros. You even had code names and secret missions! He probably never told you, but that stayed with him. He’ll never forget how good you made him feel in one of the worst times in his entire life! You said it yourself, he’s the same kid, baby. And even though you’re in a rough time, you’re the same kid too. He misses you as much as you miss him, hun. Please go work it out._

“Okay… okay, I’ll try, Mom. I love you, by the way. Sometimes I feel like I don’t say that enough.” Through the airwaves, I could barely hear tears prickle at my mother’s eyes. 

_Oh, I love you too, Kenma! I’ll ask the doctors about new medication. Stop taking the ones you have now. I’m serious, Kenma. Call me if you need me, okay? Good luck, baby, you can do this!_

I gave the red ‘end call’ button a tap after our final goodbyes, breaking the connection between Okinawa and the mainland.


	8. Royal Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jingle bells playing ominously in the distance*

Padding down the stairs brought me closer and closer to a fit of anxiety. Mom said it would be fine, and half of me believed her, but doesn’t she _have_ to say that? She’s my Mom, she wouldn’t tell me to if she thought talking to him would reap any damaging results, would she? 

A despondent sigh from the living room announced the presence of the last person I wanted to talk to, but I knew it needed to be done. Mom and Hinata were right, he’d been sitting around in this house wondering what he’d done to me. It wasn’t fair to him in the slightest, so I took a deep breath and rounded the corner, putting my eyes on the back of Kuroo’s head. The sides of his hair has been pretty thoroughly squashed, presumably from hiding underneath pillows; a tell-tale sign of stress for him. My stomach wouldn’t settle right, but I took a stride towards the couch, letting my heels hit the ground hard enough to produce sound. 

Another despondent sigh, he didn’t hear me. Or at least, he didn’t acknowledge the ever so quiet thud hitting the floorboards. I swallowed thickly and called his name just above a whisper. He tensed a moment, turning slowly to see me, as if he thought he’d dreamed the sound of my voice. 

I stood there, still as the dead. Neither of us said anything for a while, just stared like we were trying to figure each other out simultaneously. We both had a tendency to freeze over and become unreadable, unapproachable even, when we were upset. Not even I could read his mind at a time like this, especially when his face tightened into this vaguely angry, thoughtful expression he adopted when he was at a loss. 

“C-Can I sit with you,” I asked to be polite, dropping my eyes to the floor. 

He moved slowly, deliberately, sitting up on the couch and making room for me. With a sudden burst of bravery, I padded forward, silently making my way across the dark living room. Kuroo, looking like he couldn’t believe his luck, scooted further into the corner of the couch. 

I studied hopeful golden eyes, searching for any foul play. And when I found nothing, I crawled into his lap. Kuroo gasped almost silently as I nestled myself into his chest. I brought my hands up, placing them lightly at his sternum and closing my eyes. A tentative hand came to rest on my shoulder. When I didn’t react, he fully committed to holding me closer. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, feeling the warmth of his heart, beating so close to my ear, pull me down into sleep, assisted by vague tendrils of leftover medicine. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured me. The hand on my shoulder grew curious, slowly edging towards the hair at the nape of my neck. “Are you okay?” he asked, idly running his fingers through my hair. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm…”

My heart had slowed to a comfortable level, uninfluenced by prescription drugs for the first time in quite a while. My fingers curled childishly into little fists, face pressed up against Kuroo’s chest so I could listen to his voice. There was something different about it here, it seemed softer than listening to it through the airwaves. I much preferred hearing it from the source.

“Are you purring?”a comically self-absorbed tone played in his voice, taking pride in my pleasure. I nodded sleepily. “That’s adorable.” 

I could’ve stayed like this forever, in this world where there was no worry, no anxieties to speak for and mull over. I missed feeling safe and warm. I’d noticed a decline in the amount of days Mom could make me feel this way. Kuroo was getting to be the only source of calm within this storminess in my brain. I’d have to thank him someday, hopefully I’d return the favor.

* * *

“Yoo hoo~ Here kitty, kitty! Come out, come out, wherever you are!!”

Sunlight floated in through blinded windows, illuminating the fairy dust that occupied the air. Flecks of white and gold drifted carelessly through the breeze. Beachy air, warmed by the sand just east of here, paired with light coaxed me back to wakefulness. But I wasn’t on the couch, and there was no Kuroo. 

I stepped out of bed, taking a glance at the mirror looking back at me. Two thin legs jointed with knobby knees poked out from underneath this giant shirt, hiding my shorts completely. A small smile turned up the corners of my lips, but it faded away at the sound of an exasperated Kuroo trying to keep his voice down. 

“Oikawa, are you fucking serious.”

“What! You’re the one who called me!”

A tall, lean, virtually unchanged Oikawa stood in the doorway, leaned up against the frame of it and giving Kuroo this smoldering look. That was the thing with him, he always looked at people with this subtle hunger, like he was constantly thinking of eating them alive. I never understood it past knowing that it made me incredibly uncomfortable. He’d learned to control his gaze around me through countless slaps to the back of his head from several different people, mostly Kuroo. 

Speaking of whom, he filled the doorway with broad shoulders and strong muscles. I couldn’t decide whether it was to hide me from Oikawa, or Oikawa from me. He spoke low and quiet, like he was making some illicit deal he couldn’t afford to have discovered. 

“Yeah well everything’s fine now,” he hissed, “Get lost.”

I pressed myself to my bedroom door, widening the crack between the door and the frame just enough to see Oikawa’s face go from smug to dramatically offended.

“Rude!” he cried, crossing his arms to pout like a child, “After all the gifts I’ve given you. I just wanna see my best friend and my poor, long-lost friend!”

“You’re not my best friend.”

“I resent that.”

“And he’s still sleep--”

“Kenma!” 

Big brown eyes suddenly locked onto me with undivided, overbearing attention. Then a pair of golden one’s followed suit, darting away and back to Oikawa when they saw the deer-in-headlights expression that had overtaken me in giant waves. He could sense my body shaking, eyes widening at the stranger in our house, one I’d not seen in over two years.

“Long time no see! Still blond? That’s awesome!” he shouted up the stairs, “Come down here and--”

With a slam far ruder than I meant it to be, I closed the door, effectively cutting him off in favor of escape.

Kuroo let out a half relieved, half wary sigh, happy that Oikawa made no moves to pursue me but worried at how I’d taken this new visitor without being warned beforehand. He turned his attentions back to Oikawa, groaning impatiently at the comically long face he was pulling. He could tell he wanted to be invited in. Oikawa knew he had always had a way of warming me up enough to spend small amounts of time with him. But Kuroo would not be swayed.

“No,” he answered the unspoken question. Oikawa’s pleading-puppy face sank into a stubborn frown. 

“You haven’t told him yet, have you,” he interrogated spitefully, dredging up old memories that had Kuroo screwing his eyes shut to will them away.

“I don’t even understand how _you_ know.” Oikawa rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the devious smile that sparked up that carnal glint in his eyes that had faded away when he looked at me. Kuroo let out another exasperated groan. 

“What’s your problem?” Oikawa asked, actually starting to get offended. The softness of Kuroo’s voice managed to prevent a full-on pout from Oikawa. He could tell something weighed heavily on his mind. 

“Look,” Kuroo threw him an explanatory hand gesture, “he hasn’t spoken to me in three days. He’s been hiding upstairs with the door locked.”

“No shit…” Oikawa’s eyes lost their predatory gleam. He finally understood why his friend looked so sleep deprived. He’d probably figured Kuroo was recovering from a wild beach party or something, but he was way off.

“I just got him back okay?” Kuroo sighed, trying to make a compromise with an uncharacteristically agreeable Oikawa. “He isn’t ready to see anyone else. That includes you for right now, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I get it,” Oikawa let him off easily, flashing him a tamed smile before turning to walk away, “I’ll be back in a few hours!” He called from the steps, waving to Kuroo as he left. 

“No one else! I’m serious--” But he was already gone, strutting down the pavement like a supermodel likely headed for the beach. And, honestly, who was to say he wasn’t? 

Kuroo closed the door, heaving a head-clearing sigh before venturing up the stairs to find where I’d gone to hide. Kuroo discovered me on the balcony, arms slung up on the rail to support my chin as I watched the same set of boys play keep-away. I heard the slide of the glass door opening and closing to keep the cold air inside the house, noticed as Kuroo slumped down into the chair next to me. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Kuroo’s body language seemed relaxed, but his voice was low and tight, gauging my reaction to Oikawa’s sudden but not unexpected presence by sight alone instead of just asking me. 

I’d slammed the door, leaning all my weight on it as I’d slid to my knees. My heart rate had picked up, making my chest pound furiously as my lungs sucked in thin, harassed breaths that only made my chest ache. I blinked the burn from my eyes as my head buzzed with a million questions:

_He’d seen me, but did he see my arms?_

_I thought I’d had them folded up at my chest, but was I wrong?_

_If he saw, did he think I was sick? A freak? A psychopath?_

“Why did you call him in the first place?” I asked. I knew why already; I really only asked to bring myself out of the panic that had started to gather in my gut. 

“I’m not sure myself,” he replied cryptically, watching the boys in the park, “I definitely regret it, though.” 

We watched the game for a while as a neither comfortable nor uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Wonder Boy had taken our advice and started passing to Blue Hair more often. The team functioned so much better this way. Occasionally, all six boys in the park would glance up in our direction, waiting for Kuroo to yell at them again like he did last time. I had to fight the small smile that wanted to come to the surface.

“He said something about a party,” I reminded. Kuroo whined, hiding his face in his hands like he was trying not to peel his skin off his skull. 

“God I hope not,” he murmured to himself mostly. I tried not to read into it. “I just got you back,” he said seemingly out of nowhere, “Don’t get quiet on me again, okay?” He was serious, eyes narrow, focus sharp, waiting for my answer. I nodded my head, slowly agreeing, and this seemed to be enough for him. “You scared the shit out of me…” he concluded.

We turned back to the boys at the park. Wonder Boy intercepted a pass from the opposite team, holding the ball still for a split second while he decided who he should throw to. Red Shirt and Blue Hair stood on opposite sides of the court, hooting and hollering. Members of the other team scattered to cover them while the last player made a beeline for Wonder Boy. With the time for passing rapidly decreasing, Wonder Boy suddenly froze up, allowing the player to steal the ball from him. 

“You can have it,” I said, tilting my chin down to hide my face behind a veil hair. Kuroo hummed beside me; I could feel his eyes. “As long as Shouyou can come, and I think Tobio is here too, so he’d come as well.”

Kuroo was taken aback, struck speechless. Permission to invite more than one person into my general vicinity wasn’t a frequent affair, even before all of this. “Well okay,” he said after a while, “I’ll let the prince know.”

“Okay.”

“He isn’t a bad guy really,” he added, “just… excitable.” I nodded. His shoulder’s slumped as he looked for a way to inspire some excitement within me. A bright smile flashed across his face, “I got a new box of mochi. Come on,” he cooed softly, his usually cocky smirk exchanged for something more genuine.

Without a word, I was up, abandoning this petty conversation in search of mochi.


	9. Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i'm aware that this chapter is shit. sorry i was sooooo blocked. 3:

We spent the afternoon in my room: I was running around Hyrule via my DS and Kuroo was by my side attempting to clean powdered sugar from the corners of my mouth. Navi finally turned green in the corner of my screen, and I was so focused that I swatted Kuroos hand away when it blocked my view. Once I’d taken out my ocarina and played _Song of Storms_ , a little golden fairy appeared and restored my startlingly low health and magic. I wasn’t at my best this go around, I supposed. I ignored the scandalized look on Kuroo’s face.

Back to running around, looking for all the Easter Eggs and Bonuses, I had the leeway to allow Kuroo to clean leftover mochi from my face. He seemed to want to with such ardor that it seemed fair enough to give him the chance. He pressed a licked thumb to the corner of my mouth, wiping away sugar with a slow swipe. I made a face at the strange wetness but said nothing. 

“Who dyes your hair?” Kuroo asked out of nowhere.

“Mom.”

“Ah,” he mused, brushing strands of hair from my eyes. The dark brown of my roots had overgrown, taking over a third of my hair’s total length which was beginning to touch my shoulders. “She’s got some work to do,” he commented, “unless you’re planning to grow out the blond.” 

I shrugged, commanding Link to cast his fishing line one more time. Long, thin fingers searched through my hair, lulling me in and out of focus until I had to give up and save my game. Succumbing to the natural dreamyness that occurred whenever someone-- usually Mom-- messed with my hair, I leaned my head down onto Kuroo’s shoulder. Both of us stared at nothing in particular and simply enjoyed the company and attention in silence. 

Well, it was silent before the incessant knocking started. 

I ground out a rather disgusted noise under my breath but Kuroo all out groaned at the announcement of company. 

“You gotta be _kidding_ me,” he murmured to himself, begrudgingly dragging himself from my bed to head for the door. He nearly crossed the threshold into the hall before turning back to me to add, “Come down if you want okay? I made sure Oikawa didn’t tell anyone you were here, so they won’t look for you or anything. I’ll send Chibi-chan up when he gets here.” Then he sent me a weighted look, solidifying my options. To attend, or not to attend; that was the question, the ultimatum. And it was my decision to make.

* * *

The deadbolt in the front door slid into place with a click that reverberated throughout the house, shook me down as I watched the door fall open from the safety of my bedroom. Kuroo batted at the side of the door, slapping it open and moving to lean against the doorframe to greet the first of presumably many guests. Halfway into the change in gesture a swift and total blow to the abdomen threw his balance. He fell to the floor with a bang that shook the house with the same intensity that the deadbolt unlocking had. 

A body build much like his own pinned him to the floor with practiced ease. Kuroo rolled a light soreness from his shoulders, opening his eyes to identify his assailant. Instead of launching some form of counter attack, a horridly mischievous grin split his lips and bared his teeth. 

“Long time, no see, Kuroo,” a matching grin hissed with a steely, competitive edge. 

With hands tightening around the arms that held him down, Kuroo threw this other guy down beside him, wrestling him down to the floor to turn the tables. 

I pursed my lips, watching from my doorway. I recognized the mop of messy, greying hair and wide, owlish eyes, but no names came to label this person. Clearly Kuroo knew him well enough to rough him up right there on the floor while Oikawa’s long legs stepped over them and made their way to the kitchen. But who was he?

“Dude, where the fuck have you been?” Kuroo very nearly _giggled_ in the face of this friend and I was so taken aback, I very nearly gasped. I could feel my heart starting to beat a little faster at the gleeful smile that graced his face. Such fondness for this person lit up the room, even from up here; the question was, why was I suddenly feverish?

“Remarkably sober,” the other responded a little too loudly. Kuroo yanked him to a standing position, showing that they really were the same size. Perhaps Kuroo was a touch taller. “Let’s get this party started, what are you, the worst host in Miyako?” Kuroo whirled around to put himself between his friend and the kitchen where Oikawa was definitely up to no good. With a strong grip, Kuroo held the other back, yet his voice was playful and lighthearted. 

“Your bipolar ass is definitely not getting drunk tonight, the hell’s wrong with you,” he chided like a disappointed mother, “Where’s your handler anyway?”

“Bokuto.”

As if on cue, another very familiar person approached the house, stepping through the opened door but remaining just outside of reach out of respect. He was a little smaller than Kuroo and Kuroo’s doppelganger, with dark hair and thoughtful eyes which locked onto Bokuto instantly. 

“Sorry, about him,” he apologized dryly, “He should probably be on medication.” 

“Akaashi,” Kuroo greeted, the same blissful smile on his face, “always good to see you.”

Another sharp pain jolted my chest, like I was suddenly stricken with heart burn and a headache at the same time. I couldn’t take my eyes off of that happy smile. Kuroo’s eyes even shined a little in delight. The fact that I felt so sick to my stomach over his finally being somewhat cheerful made me feel even more sick, like I could vomit or pass out. 

I swallowed thickly as the door kicked open again. I sighed a big breath I didn’t know I was holding when a mop of red hair practically skipped into the house, followed by a taller, less pleasant face stalking in behind him. 

Hinata offered warm greetings to the rest of the group, quickly striking up a spirited, volleyball-centric conversation with Bokuto complete with hand gestures, sound effects, and wild expressions. Kageyama stood off to the side, nodding to Kuroo who raised an acknowledging brow. 

It seemed that Kageyama had only grown taller and more frightening in these years passed. He’d always had this sharp gaze that shot through the hearts of everyone he looked upon. I remembered the day I’d met him, after the exposition between Nekoma and Karasuno. He’d loomed over me, radiating a dark, all encompassing focus that had me actually _running_ away from him to avoid having a panic attack in front of everyone. It was embarrassing enough for Kuroo to have seen me vomiting my nerves in the bathroom minutes later. 

Hinata rushed over to where Kageyama was attempting to fade into the background, grabbing him by the arm to drag him into conversation. In the chaos of prying him away from the safety of the doorway, Hinata took his hand and wove their fingers together. Kageyama relaxed a small but notable amount which amazed me, even adding his own brief statements into the chat, mostly corrections of little details Hinata missed. 

Once more, the door swung open, this time revealing the bright and happy face of Nekoma’s main libero, Morisuke Yaku. I could’ve sighed in relief if I wasn’t so keyed up at the moment. Yaku; quiet, understanding, he was so good to me. He tried to help, listened to me when I spoke. The only time he was ever angry enough to get violent was with-- 

Another especially large person filled the doorway to the brim with sheer size. Drawing the attention of everyone in the lobby. Hinata squealed in surprise as this next party guest came right behind him, looking down at the top of his head with wide eyes. 

A flash of concern shined behind Kuroo’s eyes at the sight of a taller, stronger, creepier Lev Haiba. A wide, cluelessly adoring smile spread across his cheeks but those piercing green eyes never creased at the edges. They never ever wavered as long as I’ve known them, and they’ve only ever stared. Oh, how they stared into my soul, right through me even. I couldn’t suppress a shiver from the isolation of my bedroom. I couldn’t imagine how Kuroo felt with their gaze bearing down on him at such a close range.

“Good evening, Kuroo-san,” he greeted, his voice slow and unsettling as he blinked his eyes at about half the speed of normal human beings. 

“Hi Lev,” Kuroo replied, remembering his manners. He flicked his eyes down to the corner of his vision, remembering just how fond Lev was of me. Yaku and Hinata caught up quietly, Bokuto embarrassed Akaashi, same as always, and Lev just kept _staring_ like some overly elated owl or a persian cat. 

“Alright kids,” Kuroo announced, cutting the idle conversations down easily, “do whatever you want under one condition.” Everyone nodded their attentiveness. “Don’t go upstairs,” Kuroo warned, “I’m not dishing out any warnings. If you wanna live, you’ll stay down here, go it?”

An unceremonious chorus of yeses and sures floated through the air in off-key agreement. A few firm steps brought Kuroo face to face with those unnerving green eyes. He had to tilt his head upward to see them and Lev noticed. The urge to point out the noticeable height difference bubbled in his chest, and he almost opened his mouth to say something, but Kuroo’s sharp and serious gaze put that fire out with ease. 

“Don’t go upstairs, Lev,” he repeated, “got it?”

The lobby was quiet and tense for a moment. Dozens of eyes flicked back and forth from Lev to Kuroo. Most everyone was vaguely curious as to what they might discover upstairs should their curiosity get the best of them, all except Hinata and Kageyama who must’ve been briefed beforehand. 

“Yes, I’ve got it Kuroo-san,” Lev replied, his wide smile shrinking into a submissive little frown. Though he did steal a glance at the high rise out of curiosity, he would never dare to disobey his very first captain. From the corner of the room, Yaku breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wonderful!” Oikawa’s voice carried into the lobby from the kitchen. With another knock on the door, he was prancing through the small crowd that had collected in the foyer, ignoring Kuroo as he rolled his eyes at his enthusiasm. 

The door opened, and standing behind it was the wing spiker from Aobajousai back in high school. He still had his vaguely angry look he sported with such consistency that one may assume that he was naturally that bitter and hard hearted. He turned out to be a rather comfortable person, given the circumstances. I’d never been one to have very many conversations with him, but he was Oikawa’s rock when his head was in the clouds more than usual. 

“Iwa-chan! You came!” Oikawa cheered, jumping up to wrap his long legs around Iwaizumi’s body, as if he weren’t already tall enough to do so. Iwaizumi heaved an already exasperated sigh.

“The hell else am I gonna do,” he grumbled, dropping his eyes to avoid making contact, “You ate all the food.”

“Iwaizumi, what a pleasant surprise.” 

“Good to see you, Kuroo.”

When no one else arrived in the next five or so minutes, a party of nine moved into the living room. Well, Kuroo and Yaku headed for the living room while most others moved to raid the kitchen. Akaashi leaned up against a wall, keeping a close eye on Bokuto. Kageyama stood in the doorway, separating the foyer from the rest of the house. 

“Oikawa, this is it?” Kuroo asked, pulling him to the side. He leaned up against the side door to the backyard. 

“Smaller parties make for crazier happenings~” he sang with a cheerful smile. 

“You just didn’t want to pay for extra food, did you.”

“Damn straight.”

Oikawa headed towards the kitchen to join the raid, catching a cocky smirk from Kuroo in the corner of his vision. On his way, he was met with two sour, pouty faces; Akaashi and Kageyama. His cheeriness sank into a disapproving frown for a fleeting moment, his inner host determined to force them into having fun. When Kuroo saw that frown morph into an almost creepily large grin, he snickered, knowing they were in for it now. 

“Kageyama,” Oikawa crooned, catching his attention, “want anything from the kitchen? It seems like you’re not into crowds.” The pout on Kageyama’s face soften at the consideration, Oikawa was right, he wasn’t much for crowded rooms.

“Water would be nice,” he shrugged.

“Where’s Hinata?”

Kuroo and Kageyama made brief, understanding eye contact. “Elsewhere.”

* * *

A light knock at the door startled me, I gasped. Hinata had crept away from the chaos, quietly hurrying up the stairs to check on me. A thin body flew through my door, closing it behind him without a sound. 

“Hey Kenma!” he greeted with a toothy grin. 

“Hey,” I responded with little enthusiasm. I’d resigned myself to my bed, hoping that lying down would sooth this sudden illness that had stricken me. It didn’t, so I sat up, put my feet on the floor. 

“You don’t look so good,” Hinata stated, quickly joining me on the bed. Gentle hands held my face as he looked into my eyes, checked my temperature by pressing a palm to my forehead. I must’ve been a little warm, judging by the pitying look on Hinata’s face. “Feeling bad all day?” he asked.

“Not really,” I hesitated, “I don’t really know what’s wrong with me. I just feel… Not right.”

Hinata didn’t answer, encouraging me to sit up taller instead. He rested his cheek on my shoulder and I rested mine atop his head, sticking my nose in wily red hair. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he offered softly. 

“Well…” I trailed off. Hinata noticed my reluctance, weaving his fingers into mine. He breathed slow and easy, waiting for my reply. “I was feeling fine until people started showing up. Kuroo and I were up here doing nothing, really. When people started coming, I just felt… sick.”

Hinata hummed. “Maybe you were upset because Kuroo is downstairs and not with you,” he deadpanned. Guilt sank fast in my stomach. What a selfish reason, to feel physically ill when out of someone’s attention was so needy, so unlike me. Or maybe it was more to my character than I’d thought. 

_Am I… needy? Am I too needy?_

Hinata could hear my heart starting to beat a little faster. He squeezed my hand, cooing softly to relax the waves of anxiety that threatened to break free. The sound of the door opening and closing caught our attention, distracting us from my oncoming anxiety. Kageyama rushed in, shutting the door with his back and letting out a big sigh. 

“What’s wrong?” Hinata asked, an oblivious look on his face. Kageyama wanted to look at me, but knowingly diverted his gaze. 

“Do you mind if I stay up here?” he asked meekly, that ever-present grim politeness had remained with him through the years. I nodded. Hinata asked him what was wrong again, scooting over to make room for him on the bed. 

“Koutarou-san and Haiba-san have lost their minds.”

* * *

_Crash!_

“Aw, shit, my bad.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Bokuto, what the fuck,” Kuroo called from the couch, snickering at the silent screech on Oikawa’s face. This was his parents’ villa, including all the dishes-- including the glass Bokuto just smashed in the kitchen. Judging by Oikawa’s soul leaving his body for a fleeting second, it was probably very expensive and/or irreplaceable. 

Akaashi rounded the corner, barely avoiding getting clipped in the side by the countertop, to take a breath of fresh air. They could hear Bokuto rooting around in the refrigerator. Kuroo remembered the mochi, getting worried that someone might eat it before I could. But he shrugged it off, making a note to run and get more and hope I wouldn’t notice. 

“How much has he had?” he offered to an already exhausted looking Akaashi. 

“None,” he replied, the irony plain in his voice, as well as the exasperation. 

“Yo Russian! Betcha can’t finish the bottle!” Bokuto slammed down a heavy jug of embarrassingly low quality vodka with a competitive grin plastered stupidly on his face. Akaashi groaned behind the palm of his hand, slapped up against his face to hide from foreseeable moronic behavior. 

“Of course I can,” he answered easily, sitting on a barstool at the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Weren’t you raised in Japan?” Bokuto countered quickly, thinking he had him. Lev shrugged.

“Yes, but I’m much bigger than you, so I can at least tolerate more than you could if Akaashi-san would let you drink.” 

The house let out a collective gasp. Bokuto seemed to have blown a gasket. His face turned bright red, eyes ablaze with the ferocity of a cornered dog. But he knew he couldn’t do anything; if he tried, Kuroo and Akaashi would come down on him pretty fast just to keep the peace. So he turned his gaze to Kuroo, silently asking to permission to start a fight. 

“Put your money where your mouth is, Lev,” Kuroo challenged, knowing exactly how to solve this conundrum. 

“I want in on this,” Iwaizumi seconded. 

“Holy shit me too, what,” Oikawa jumped up from the couch, looking back to Kuroo who waved him off, “You’re not gonna come watch? It’s epic.” Over Oikawa’s shoulder, Lev and Bokuto were setting up for what was sounding like an all out chugging contest. Some thought he could do it, others didn’t. But most had 2000 yen in it just for posterity. Kuroo wasn’t sure if they even knew who’d get the money in the end. 

“I’m comfortable just sitting here and knowing everyone’s safe,” Kuroo backed out, deciding it was better to watch from a distance than to get involved. He didn’t expect Oikawa to swing around behind the couch and wrap his arms around him in a suffocating hug. 

“Aw, Kuroo, Pappa Bear~” Oikawa practically purred, squeezing poor Kuroo between his face and his arms and nuzzling their cheeks together. From across the room, Iwaizumi growled sound disapproval. A heated look appeased him pretty easily, but Oikawa made his way to the kitchen just to be sure they could all get along. No use creating rivalries. 

_Go! Go! Go! Go!_

Bokuto was as much as losing his mind as he watched Lev power chug cheap vodka like it was water and come out of it completely unchanged. Akaashi stood in the corner, trying not to look impressed. Most everyone has stolen a shot or two just for posterity, but Oikawa was the first to show signs of belligerence. 

Without much warning or forethought, long arms captured poor Iwaizumi, pinning him to a wall between the kitchen and the living room where Yaku and Kuroo chose not to partake much beyond the obligatory party shot everyone had to take. It wasn’t enough to do much to Kuroo, but Yaku definitely seemed a little more welcome to the short jokes tossed his way which was unlike him. 

“Wow, cheap shit, Oikawa,” Kuroo taunted, unashamedly watching as Oikawa attempted to suck out Iwaizumi’s soul through his mouth, “I’m disappointed in you.”

“Who do I have to impress?” he jeered, “You?”

Kuroo shrugged, settling back into the couch. “It’s not like I’m driving your drunk ass home.”

“Iwa will carry me,” he countered with a cheerful smile. 

“No I won’t.”

The whole house let out their own forms of laughter at the aspersed face Oikawa pulled, punching Iwaizumi in the shoulder for being an ‘idiot’. 

“Hey Kuroo,” Yaku called, a gleeful smile showing all his teeth. Kuroo slumped down on the couch next to him, sitting deep into it like he could melt away, a blissful smile on his face. They watched Bokuto all but lose his mind with Lev in the kitchen. Akaashi didn’t even bother trying to rein him in now. He even took a glance at the last remnants of vodka lying forgotten at the bottom of the bottle, but he shook the thought out of his mind. 

Despite the light contact high that buzzed pleasantly in his mind, Kuroo was relatively calm. Maybe Yaku’s easy-going disposition was capable of producing its own contact high. All he knew for certain was that if he stood to join them he’d soon be choking back cheap tequila and waking the neighbors with horrible noise-- whether or not it stemmed from rough housing or screeching Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of his lungs with Bokuto, Oikawa, and Lev. It seemed that all the people Kuroo called friends could be classified into two groups, troublemakers and their managers. 

“Truth or Dare?” Yaku half joked, shaking his head at the hubbub in the kitchen. His heart went out to Akaashi, hoping that one day he wouldn’t have to deal with this ever again-- it was unlikely. 

“Truth,” Kuroo replied, throwing up an uncaring hand.

“Pussy,” Oikawa taunted from the other side of the living room. He had Iwaizumi pressed up into a wall with a firm palm. By the looks of two pairs of hungry eyes, neither were too interested in making this a conversation, but Oikawa seemed so attuned to Kuroo and his obvious boringness that he needed to comment, much to Iwaizumi’s impatience.

“Tramp,” Kuroo shot back without much effort. Yaku seemed oddly happy with his choice. His eyes stayed soft and safe, whatever question he wanted the answer for wouldn’t hurt him. Kuroo knew this, but the assurance was just another good quality Yaku possessed. It made him forget how violent Yaku could be, though it was mostly directed towards Lev.

“Have you heard from Kenma?” he asked. He kept his voice low and unthreatening, but Kuroo’s smile still sank. He knew he wasn’t required to answer, but the ease of speaking to such a trustworthy person had him opening up in the middle of a crowded room. 

“Well, actually,” he started, running a hand through unruly locks of dark, tangled hair. Yaku waited patiently, even managing to smile through the concern that manifested behind his eyes. 

Listening to Kuroo starting to answer Yaku’s question truthfully, Oikawa was suddenly very aware of the gravity of the situation. Alert and focused, he ignored a frustrated groan from Iwaizumi as they detached. He mumbled a brief apology before practically lunging for the couch where Kuroo and Yaku sat. 

Kuroo noticed the gathering sensation of a hand fisting the collar of his shirt, and in a whirl of motion, he found himself slammed into the back wall of a cramped coat closet. Oikawa loomed over him with dark, stirring eyes, pupils growing larger by the second. 

“Iwa-chan Six minutes, time me.” Leaning over, pinning Kuroo to the wall with height and strength, their lips met in a brief but thorough kiss. 

“It’s _seven_ minutes, dumbass,” Kuroo corrected, eyes drifting out the closet door to the surprised look on Yaku’s face and the irritated look on Iwaizumi’s. 

“Aw, did you miss me?” Oikawa purred into his mouth. 

“Nah.” 

Oikawa scoffed, “Just kiss me like you mean it.”


	10. Seven Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to gwenyth and vane. sorry this took so long. sorry its kinda shitty.

Whoops and hollers bounced off the walls, climbing the stairs and echoing through the high rise. Upstairs, Hinata, Kageyama, and I were chatting about nothing in particular. 

“What is it like down there?” I asked as my stomach settled. 

“It’s a lot more tame than I expected,” Hinata encouraged, sprawled out on the floor and staring at the ceiling. 

Kageyama leaned against the wall, diverting his eyes and taking bored sips from his water glass periodically. Hinata had been laying on the floor telling stories or rattling off random thoughts for close to an hour. Even through his top layers of not caring and trying to have a bad time, Kageyama showed a powerful endearment to Hinata’s stories. When he interrupted himself in the middle of one particular tale to excitedly begin a new one, Kageyama would employ his strongest reserves of self control to keep himself from smiling. 

“Ugh, I’m hungry,” Hinata groaned from the floor, pulling a comically long face. Kageyama seemed unimpressed. 

“Get up and feed yourself,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. Hinata’s eyes narrowed. 

“How romantic.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m not leaving Kenma,” Hinata announced, looking down at Kageyama from the lowest possible angle yet still pulling it off. Seconds went by of tense staring, both Hinata and Kageyama incrementally narrowing their eyes until they were nearly shut altogether. When Hinata suddenly locked his jaw, Kageyama started forward, ready to pull him up off the ground by his collar. 

“I-It’s okay,” I interjected, attracting sharp gazes that made my blood run cold for a moment. But Hinata softened and Kageyama looked away, unable to replicate Hinata’s speedy recovery from such a staredown. “It’s okay if you want to go downstairs.”

“But--”

“I kind of want…” I trailed off, unsure of myself. But Hinata waited for the rest of my reply with a patient smile. “I might go down,” I restarted, feeling a small amount of confidence swell inside me, “just for a little bit,” I added to be realistic. 

“Y’know what?” Hinata’s smile grew much wider, “I think you should.”

* * *

Careful, quiet steps carried me down the stairs slowly, revealing more and more of the conjoined kitchen-living room and its inhabitants. The hum of contented chatter seemed so inviting, even as my heart beat out of my chest. 

With Hinata leaning over the high rise, watching me in case I needed a diversion to make a hasty getaway, I made my way through the hall, approaching the living room with uncertainty. It didn’t even seem like much of a party anymore, more so a crowded visiting. Most were accounted for: Lev and Iwaizumi were powwowed in the kitchen, Akaashi was trying to keep Bokuto calm and failing miserably, and Yaku was on the couch watching all of this unfurl. But where were Kuroo and Oikawa?

I seemed to have drawn no attention, and with wariness, I ventured deeper into the center of the room, keeping an eye out for the last two party guests. I looked to the left, then to the right. Nobody saw me standing right in the middle of everything. They were all too busy in what they were doing, much like how it was before. 

A bustling sound from my left drew my attention to the coat closet in the living room. And then I saw them, chocolate brown eyes blown wide and black, lidded with heavy dark lashes. No one in the house had noticed me yet, the quiet hum of conversation had continued, but those eyes saw me. Insistent hands buried themselves in a mop of dark hair that I assumed was Iwaizumi’s from previous experiences. But Iwaizumi stood in the kitchen with Lev, not on the floor in the closet with Oikawa and his vicious eyes. A step closer put be almost adjacent to the closet, able to confirm who the second person was. 

“Kuroo?”

The house stilled at the sound of my voice. All were silent. Even the smack of separating lips seemed muted as dozens of eyes glued onto me. Even Akaashi, as phlegmatic as he was, widened his eyes at the sight. Me; standing in the middle of the living room in shorts and one of Kuroo’s sweaters, unnoticed by _everyone_ until I opened my mouth. 

“Shit,” Kuroo whispered, unwittingly squeezing Oikawa’s waist where it lied atop him. 

With an audible inhale through my nose, I’m sure my pupils shrunk to the size of pinheads. My jaw locked, my stomach ached, and I couldn’t do anything but stare. I couldn’t bring myself to move or look away as Kuroo and Oikawa didn’t even bother to scramble out of the closet. 

We all just stared. 

A faint beeping, like an alarm on someone’s phone, went off but was quickly silenced as well.

The groan of a stool skidding across the floor didn’t even startle me as I stared blankly at the couple in the closet. The predacious look in Oikawa’s eyes had faded away, looking vaguely guilty. But his guilt could never match the fear in Kuroo’s. 

Lumbering into my vision, a large, slightly uncoordinated body approached me. I had to force my attention away from the closet to make eye contact with Lev, who stood over me with this _softened_ expression I’d never seen him make. It was unthreatening, easy to gaze upon for longer than a few short moments at a time. 

With an almost saddened expression, Lev searched for something to say, mouth opening and closing a few times, but he came up empty handed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Yaku tense up to take him down, his instinct to protect me from Lev’s personal space issue kicking in. Some strange urge had be waving him off, putting him at ease until Lev could get his thoughts across. It definitely looked like he had something to say. 

The same spark of courage had me taking a step closer, putting myself within arms reach. This opportunity I’d presented seemed favorable to trying to articulate whatever was happening inside his mind. With a wide stride, he closed the space between us. I didn’t expect him to lift me by my armpits, pulling me into a warm and long awaited hug. 

“You’ve returned, Kenma-san,” Lev whispered, a pensive relief clearing out his usual creepy tone. I was shocked at first, but the idea that someone had _missed_ me filled the emptiness I felt with warmth. I returned his hug, pressing my fingers into him to protect myself from the possibility of falling. My feet dangled about a foot off the ground. 

_Kenma…_

_Kozume Kenma._

_Was he here this whole time?_

_Maybe he was what Kuroo didn’t want us to see upstairs…_

Suspicious party guests murmured their theories, discussed where I’d gone, and what might’ve brought me back. Hinata and Kageyama slipped back into the living room like they’d been there the whole time, keeping an eye on me like watchful parents. 

With an uncomfortable sounding struggle, Kuroo and Oikawa tumbled out of the closet in a mess of tangled limbs. 

“Whoa!” Bokuto bellowed from across the room. I gasped, tightening my grasp on Lev’s t-shirt. Bokuto bounded across the room with Akaashi following close behind. “You two cats rollin’ around again?” he accused with a convinced smirk. 

_Again?_

The blankness instilled in my gaze sharpened to irritation. A touch of disappointment in myself for not seeing that there was something going on before only fueled my irritation further. How could I have been so blind? 

“No,” Kuroo denied swiftly and strongly, “no we’re not.”

“Definitely not,” Oikawa parroted, sending a hopeful look to Iwaizumi who rolled his eyes. 

“Mhmm~” Bokuto seemed unconvinced, and neither was I. 

Lev still held tight to me when my feet touched the ground. He had this look on his face like everything was right with the world, but it wasn’t. The air was still tense and silent as I slid my gaze back and forth from Kuroo to Oikawa. Neither said a word. 

“Well,” I announced in a small voice, “don’t let me spoil the fun.”

* * *

Sitting deep in the lap of an overly contented Lev, I submitted myself to the nuzzlings, the proddings, and the coddlings, hoping he’d eventually be satisfied. The deep rumbling in his chest had only gotten stronger as time went on; my being released any time soon didn’t seem likely. So different guests would cycle around to visit with Lev and I on the couch, sitting in the opposite corner for a while to chat. 

Bokuto was quite talkative, regaling me with wild stories about nothing in particular. They were mostly about what a ‘high strung nerd’ Tsukishima Kei of Karasuno was. Hinata had to laugh and even Kageyama allowed himself a small, agreeing smile. Bokuto quickly noticed how close they were, the protective, almost possessive hand at Hinata’s waist. 

“Chibi-chan and the scary fucker!?” he whooped, opening those owlish eyes nice and wide. 

“How am I scary?” Kageyama threw his free hand up into the air, inspiring a chuckle from the rest of the house, most of which were more than a little intimidated, including myself. 

“That scowl certainly doesn’t help,” Hinata added nonchalantly, which brought on a full on applause. 

Yaku was quieter, as he generally was. He didn’t pry, but he definitely asked interested questions about what I’d been doing since we’d last spoken some odd years ago. He shook his head at Lev who was burrowing his nose into my hair. The look on my face must’ve been pretty bad considering the, “enough, Lev, leave him alone,” that firmed up Yaku’s voice. The nuzzling’s intensity let up a little, but it didn’t stop. 

Iwaizumi popped by, asking me how I’ve been doing. “That jacket’s pretty big on you, Kenma,” he observed, looking down at me with hard, vaguely angry eyes. I knew him well enough that I didn’t have to be afraid of them, but I was still uneasy. It must’ve been clear to everyone that I’d thrown on Kuroo’s old volleyball jacket. I needed the sleeves to conceal the thick bandages wrapped tightly about my arms. But why did Iwaizumi feel the need to point this out?

Both of us took a peek at the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, and later the beach. Kuroo and Oikawa had banished themselves to the deck, away from the people inside. Iwaizumi and I watched them for a moment, wondering what they were talking about.

* * *

“Holy shit.” Oikawa chewed at his fingernails, a behavior that no one had ever seen him perform except Kuroo. “Holy fucking shit, Kuroo,” he stammered, wide eyes darting back and forth across the backyard and over the sky. He breathed hurried, ragged breathes as the panic rose in his chest. “Oh my god, I’ve never fucking seen anything so scary in my life.”

“Would you calm yourself?” Kuroo hissed, every bit as disturbed as Oikawa was, but he chose to play it much cooler for the sake of Oikawa’s sanity. 

“But he was _pissed_ , Kuroo!” Oikawa cried, yanking Kuroo over to him by his collar, forcing their eyes to meet. “Didn’t you see the way he _looked_ at us!? The LASERS!? I thought I was gonna die!” 

So much for his sanity. 

“Shut the fuck up already,” Kuroo whisper-yelled, frantically trying to piece together the last five minutes before his night went to Hell. “Why are you freaking out so much anyways?” Kuroo muttered, annoyed with Oikawa’s current state of melodramatic panic, like this was all somehow all about him. “This was _your_ idea. You kissed me first. And by the way, would you mind explaining that?” 

The scandalized lilt in Oikawa’s voice deepened into a pouty growl. He released Kuroo’s shirt collar with a huff. “Really?” he questioned, “you're making it sound like this is all _my_ fault?” 

“Because it _is_ your fault.” 

“Don't forget that you didn't exactly pull away,” Oikawa argued, glueing his hands to his hips and glaring hard for the sake of his dignity, “and you made it so obvious that you needed my help! I had no choice but to take pity, for both your sake and Kenma’s.” 

“Oh Saint Oikawa, I bow to thee.” 

At the mention of my name, every muscle in Kuroo’s body flinched ever so slightly. He let out a frustrated sigh, couldn't help but scoff at Oikawa’s pompous nature, but deep down, he knew he was right. He’d cut it pretty close to revealing what he was hiding upstairs. 

“Well, couldn't you have come up with something better then immediately locking lips?” he shot, defensive and unusually cynical, “I mean I know, I'm irresistible, but really?” 

Oikawa scoffed, diverting his eyes to watch Iwaizumi sit quietly in the corner of the living room against the wall. “You couldn’t tell your ass from a handbag, Kuroo.” Kuroo grumbled something close to _asshole_ under his breath. “It was quick thinking,” Oikawa explained, softening just the smallest bit, “What else was I supposed to do? I figured everyone was tipsy enough that no one would think to much about it, it's a party after all and people do stupid things. If I had just dragged you away to talk, they'd get suspicious. We wanted to stop the questions and it worked, didn't it?”

Kuroo groaned, rolling his eyes back to the glass that separated him from the living room inside. Hinata was in the middle of one of his more lively stories, pulling a long, sour face to portray one of his characters. Yaku seemed delighted, smiling so wide his eyes closed to make room. But I looked miserable, rubbed down by an overly excited Lev. The screen door shot open with a loud and sudden bang. Kuroo filled the doorframe with anything but happiness. 

“He doesn’t like that.”

A scowl formed new lines down Kuroo’s face, like his skin wasn’t meant to display such displeasure. I tensed in Lev’s lap, alarmed at the silence the presence of his anger had caused. A fleeting thought crossed my mind: maybe I’d gone too far. Maybe I’d taken a step too close to the fire and I would soon be burned. 

“Kuroo-san?” Lev questioned with his full voice directly into my ear, causing an involuntary grimace to pass through me and twist my face up in tight disagreement. 

“That face!” he cried, voice bouncing off the walls of the room, “Can’t you tell? He makes that face. _The_ face. The scrunchy face he makes when he doesn’t like something.”

Watching Lev peel his hands away from my shoulders brought on a proud smirk. Everyone knew that Kuroo knew the most about me. No one questioned it, not even me. The power he felt swelled his chest, put that cocky smirk back onto his face. He could control everyone. _Everyone._ He could do whatever he wanted and I was powerless. And I didn’t want to be, I didn’t want to be silenced merely because Kuroo didn’t like what I was doing, even if I didn’t even like it either. 

“I can speak for myself,” I piped up, swallowing a lump of uncertainty. “I’m eighteen years old.” 

Kuroo’s expression went blank, vaguely peaceful, like he’d been shot right in the chest with a silent bullet. Oikawa heard the house go quiet and he stepped up to the window, wondering what we were saying. I saw him from the corner of my vision, but I fixed my gaze on Kuroo, watched him bleed. “Besides,” I pressed, the betrayal welling up inside me once more, “don’t you have something else to tend to? _Again?_ ” Every pair of eyes widened. “I can leave you two alone,” I suggested, thinking I’d found my way out of Lev’s grasp.

“No!” he protested immediately, latching onto me like a leech. I very nearly rolled my eyes, but suppressed it to watch for Kuroo’s reaction. He would explode. He would tell me I was being stupid, that he knew I didn’t like it in Lev’s lap, that I didn’t like being downstairs at all. And he would be right, I didn’t like it down here with all these eyes. I waited. I waited for the rolling anger like thunder and lightening. But it never came. 

“I think you’re doing just fine on your own,” Kuroo replied. And with that, he turned and headed back towards the glass doors separating us from Oikawa who waited outside expectantly. Iwazumi wouldn’t meet his eye. Lev spoke up first, as all the words in my vocabulary had suddenly evaporated. He thought he knew what the problem was. 

“If Kuroo-san wants a turn--”

“Fuck you, Vladimir.” 

Kuroo quietly closed the door behind him before pacing off into the dark, hands buried deep into his pockets. 

I exhaled a loud, shuddering breath, gasping just to feel less empty as we all watched him walk away. I could feel the weight of all the eyes on me, but I stared out the door, ignoring them for the first time ever. Slowly sinking into Lev, all my energy depleted. Everyone whispered their own versions of _are you okay?_ but I didn’t answer. Instead, I nosed the inside of an unbusied palm, encouraging Lev to continue his coddling. 

“What did he say!?” Oikawa screeched as soon as the door closed behind him. 

“Calm the fuck down,” Kuroo spat, heading off towards the beach. Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks at the sheer hostility souring Kuroo’s whole demeanor. His aura was definitely black as pitch. 

“What’s your problem?” he demanded to know, standing at the mouth of the sand dunes that separated the villas from the public beaches. 

Kuroo stopped, turning around to shoot Oikawa a bored, vaguely annoyed look.“I quit smoking,” he excused with a nonchalant shrug, “That’s my problem. Give me the rest of your pack.”

“I don’t smoke! What an _unsightly_ \--”

“Yes you do, Oikawa. Do not fuck with me.” 

Kuroo definitely looked anxious, impatient even, like he desperately needed to get as far away from here as possible. And as much as Oikawa hated enabling brash behaviour, though it happened so incredibly often, he reluctantly dug around in his pocket for a beat up, half empty pack of cigarettes.

* * *

Groaning at the quietness, Bokuto lumbered into the living room, hoping to bother Akaashi or beat the crap out of Kuroo. But Akaashi seemed to have retreated to the bathroom to hide for the time being, and Kuroo was out on the porch arguing with Oikawa. Being bored didn’t sit well with Bokuto. It made him moody, jittery even, like he couldn’t sit still until something interesting was thrown his way. 

Kageyama and Hinata stood off to the side and quietly enjoyed each other’s company. Yaku and Lev sat on the couch, me in Lev’s lap and Yaku chatting with Iwaizumi about nothing in particular. So Bokuto chose to get a rise out of Lev, hoping it would provide the type of excitement he craved. 

“He seems to like you,” Bokuto whispered to Lev. Both of them watched me dozing in Lev’s lap, endeared by the quiet fussing I’d make when uncomfortable or if Lev stopped his petting. 

“We’re best friends,” Lev replied, speaking in his usual unnervingly slow tone. He dug his fingers into my hair, scraped his nails against my scalp, and admired the transition between artificial blond and dark roots. 

“Mmmmm, I’m not too sure about that, Lev,” Bokuto’s voice trilled high with skepticism and underlying smugness. Lev craned his neck to put his eyes on Bokuto, who wore an absolutely shit-eating grin. 

“What makes you say that?” Lev asked, growing concerned and slowing the hand in my hair. I let out a drowsy whine, nuzzling my nose into the palm of his hand. 

“Haven’t sealed the deal yet, comrade,” Bokuto hinted. Lev looked confused, going back to running his fingers through my hair to keep me at least a little satisfied. The idea that we weren’t as close as he thought we were was really throwing him off. 

“Well, what do I do?” he asked at a loss. Looking over, Lev saw that Bokuto was on his phone. 

“Get in the closet for seven minutes and find out.” Bokuto had set a timer, delighted when Lev complied with little question. 

Suddenly swept up into strong arms, I remained just under the surface of consciousness where it was warm and content but not necessarily safe. I was carried through the air until it was dark and quiet. I huffed a quiet acknowledgement to the difference, but found it soothing. It was easier to fall deeper into sleep. Fleeting brushes and gentle proddings coaxed contented mewls from deep in my chest. I hummed at little ghostly kisses that fluttered across my cheeks, nose, and corners of my mouth. 

“What’s happening?” I had to ask, the fog in my brain starting to clear. No reply. “Kuroo, what’s--”

The words died in my throat. My eyes flew open, and for the briefest of seconds I really thought I’d died and gone straight to Hell. Holding me at his eye level against the wall, Lev was pressing tentative pecks all about my face, meeting in the middle to kiss my lips. 

“What are you doing?” I questioned, squirming against the wall. But I wasn’t going anywhere and Lev wasn’t listening. 

“So we can be best friends,” he insisted, forcing another uncomfortable kiss. With my heart beat rapidly increasing, I separated us with a tentative shove to his shoulders. 

“Let me go,” I meekly demanded, suddenly feeling very very small. Noticing my discontent in being kissed _on the lips_ , Lev simply relocated to my throat. “Lev, stop!” But he wouldn’t. Pink welts dotted my skin from cheek to cheek, collarbone to collarbone. I felt like I was screaming and no one bothered to listen, no one investigated. But near-silent whimpers were all that would come up. “Please just let me go.”

“But there are still five minutes left.”

Pinned against the wall, I fought weakly with both of my hands, one holding Lev at bay and the other smacking the door with splayed palm. 

“Get me out of here!” I cried, tensing at the scrape of teeth that chewed at my flesh, trying to swallow me whole. “Kuroo! Please!”

“Kenma?!”

The closet door ripped open. Both Lev and I dropped out gaze to an absolutely mortified Yaku. Without thinking, his hands closed around my wrist, and I came tumbling out of Lev’s grasp and right into Yaku. Sharp, stinging pain like a million paper cuts shot up my arm as a firm grip disturbed the thick bandages hiding just below long sleeves. I hissed, blindly squirming away. I tried to blink the tears from my eyes, to clear my vision, but the world around me only spun in a blurry tango of confusion and shooting pain. 

“Holy shit.”

“Yooooo….”

“What the fuck happened in here?” 

Hearing the commotion, Oikawa and Kuroo rushed into the house, smelling of ash and confused sadness. “Oh my god,” Kuroo whispered, blinking slowly in the blank calmness that overtook him. But the emptiness filled with a fiery vengeance as Lev casually stepped out of the closet. “You...” 

“I’m gonna take a look at your arm, okay?” Yaku explained quietly, “It sounds like you fell on it on your way out…” 

“No!” I screamed just nanoseconds too late. Yaku had already begun gingerly rolling up my sleeve. It wasn’t long before he laid eyes on a rumpled bandage, yellowed with iodine. Gentle eyes grew wide and sad, panning up to meet my gaze. The room was silent. 

A loud, high pitched whirring noise, like a dental drill, resounded in my mind. Everything around me was frozen. Someone had pressed pause on Time. No one breathed, no one spoke, no one moved. 

“Kenma…” the sound of Yaku’s voice, dowsed in depression echoed in my mind, “What did you do…?” 

Moving so fast, yet so slow at the same time, I stood and bolted. Running swiftly for the stairs I disappeared from view, locking the door behind me. Hinata followed suit, but everyone else fixed their eyes on Kuroo, standing in the middle of the room, white as a ghost and needing another cigarette. All he saw was Lev Haiba. 

“Who do you think you are?” He nearly whispered his voice was so small, and it flew right over Lev’s head. 

“Huh?” 

One second, Lev was wide eyed and perplexed, the next he was up on the wall by his neck, his airways effectively cut off by strong, furious hands. “Why would you do that to him? Why did the thought even cross your mind?” Kuroo questioned, voice low and foreboding. He squeezed all the innocent confusion right out of Lev, watched as he slowly realized what he’d done. 

“Holy shit,” someone back towards the kitchen hissed. 

Kageyama silently shoved Hinata towards the stairs. “Go, get out of here.” They shared a short, communicative glance, then Hinata was flying up the stairs to see to me. Oikawa started towards Kuroo and Lev, but Iwaizumi caught his shoulders and held him back. Yaku watched from the floor, shocked at the sudden streak of wrathful violence that had overtaken Nekoma’s gentle giant. 

Kuroo blankly observed Lev’s face turning bright red, contrasting the green of his eyes quite well. “I let you know him, Lev,” he confessed quietly, “ _I_ gave you that privilege. I let you onto my team because I trusted you. I left you here with him in a room full of people because I trusted you.” His grip as Lev’s neck tightened, squeezing out a smothered, frightened sob. “And you still managed to traumatize him. So I’m going to traumatize you, and we’ll see how you like it.”

A gentle hand whispered over his shoulder. Akaashi stood in the corner of his vision. “Let him go, Kuroo,” he encouraged quietly. Kuroo locked his jaw. “Just let him go.” Letting out several, shaky breaths, Kuroo’s gentility returned to him. He dropped Lev, who collapsed into a heap on the floor. 

“Who’s fucking idea was this,” he asked the room, voice edging on a desperate sob. “Yours?” he accused Oikawa, whose eyes went wide and shocked as he shook his head. Akaashi, threw a hand gesture towards the kitchen. Bokuto was rummaging around in the fridge. 

“It was mine, dude. Fuck,” he called out casually, having missed the majority of one of the most intense happenings anyone in attendance had endured. He had a stupidly cheerful look on his face, but it disappeared at the sight of Lev breathing himself back to life in the arms of a seriously disturbed Yaku and the smell of cigarettes and brimstone.

“Get out of my house before I waste you.” Kuroo was serious. The room seemed to get darker and colder as he absorbed all surrounding energy in case Bokuto challenged him in any way. But the least likely party guest saved him just before he replied with some sort of smartass reply. 

“Everyone out except Yaku,” Hinata announced, reappearing with Kageyama at his side. By now, no one really wanted to say. Akaashi moved first, squeezing Bokuto’s wrist until he dropped whatever he was holding in the kitchen as if he were a five year old. They both vanished shortly after. Iwaizumi was the next to leave, stalking out of the house with his head held high. Oikawa chased after him. Yaku and Kageyama helped Lev to his feet. Once Kageyama had a good hold on him, they both departed. Kuroo was left alone in the living room, listening to the whispers that lingered behind. 

_He was pissed._

_God, did you see how red he was?_

_I’m worried._

_Maybe he really is dangerous?_

“Kuroo,” Hinata called firmly, catching his attention. He couldn’t bear to hear any more bad news, but the expression on Hinata’s face was grave. “Get out.”


	11. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one. more. chapter. bitches.

Tendrils of steam rose from a tub of scalding water. Millions of tiny little bubbles formed on my skin, closing around every little air pocket that formed upon my slow, uncautious entry. It burned, painting every inch of my skin a bright red. Steam slicked my hair, glued the fine, downy edges to my skin as I looked down into the foggy, soapy water. I breathed sluggish, uncaring breaths, submitting to the care of two dissimilar people. 

With my left arm in Hinata’s hands and my right in Yaku’s, I my bandages were removed. The monstrous gouges I’d created were starting to scab over, they were difficult to clean without damaging the scar tissue. Bleeding was inevitable. But I sat perfectly still in the bathtub, refusing to look anywhere but into the water. 

“You’re healing very well, Kenma,” Hinata pointed out when the silence grew to heavy. He sent a sideways glance to Yaku, still thoroughly confused and shocked by this evening’s happenings.

“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty resilient,” he agreed quietly, putting on a brave face. This was the last piece of the puzzle. Finally, all the dots connected, and he realized how penetrating and total the sadness was. For as long as he’d known me, it had been there, lurking in the shadows of my mind. He’d seen it once or twice but never knew exactly what it was until now. 

There was no answer. 

Yaku and Hinata had reached an impasse. I would not speak. I would not react. I would barely even flinch at the sharp jolts of burning pain that shot up my arms every so often. No matter what topics they exhausted between the two of them, they couldn’t spark my interest. And after a while, they stopped trying altogether, deciding to sit in silence. 

“I, uh…” Hinata was first to speak after the bath came to an end. I stood in the middle of the bathroom swaddled tight in a fluffy, white towel, watching little rivulets of water run along the floor. “I called your mom. She said she’d be able to make it here tomorrow after your meeting with Madoka.” Yaku made a small, confused sound, and Hinata explained to him about my arrangements here in Miyako, about my therapist and my medications and the whole failed mission of coming here in the first place. 

Yaku entered my vision, kneeling down at my feet to peer into my eyes, hardened and blank as they always were. But even through all of this madness, he still managed to smile. Just a shy upturn of the corners of his mouth. But it spoke volumes more than anything else would given the circumstance. 

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked softly. And he didn’t fuss when I didn’t answer. But he did stand to leave, which gained a reaction. With the speed of instinct I grabbed his wrist just as he turned away, holding it firmly. “Do you want us to stay?” he asked, looking back to Hinata who observed quietly. 

“I-I…” I stammered, whispering as quiet as a ghost, “I don’t trust myself to… What if I don’t wake up?” 

Simultaneously, Hinata and Yaku melted, throwing their arms around me as if they could squeeze every negative thought right out of my body. The both of them chose to spend the night, taking turns watching me in shifts. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t sleep. I pretended for the sanity of my friends but all I could do was sit completely still and wait for morning. In the morning, I could go home and forget this ever happened. I could estrange everyone I care about, because it was the only way to ensure their happiness.

* * *

I sat in silence, staring at the carpet with monomaniacal fascination. My eyes skipped over the patterns, roving over the different planes and levels like they were paths for me to follow. Madoka had indulged my silence, observing me closely and hoping my body language would give him some form of hint, something to go on at least. But statuesque quiet would bare no results. 

“Kenma…” he called my name warily, getting the idea that something was terribly wrong. I’d been escorted here by not one, but two different boys, neither of which were Kuroo. Madoka had taken this to mean something significant, though he didn’t know what. “Kenma, can you talk with me?” he prompted softly, “What’s happened?”

“Uh… lot,” was my best reply. The last few hours were a blur to me. How I could articulate something I had yet to understand remained to be seen. 

“Like what?” Madoka encouraged. He set his pen to paper, ready to draw conclusions, but a disenchanted shrug provided nothing. He huffed, his lips pursing and making his moustache look even bigger. “It’s important for you to tell me what’s going through your mind, you know that right?” he reminded, “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I know,” I sighed. 

Sitting up and ready for work, Madoka reset his pen. “Let’s start with this,” he offered, perking up when i sat back to look at him. “Hinata brought you here with another young man. Who was he?”

“Yaku,” I answered, “He was on my volleyball team in school.”

“Is he your friend?” Madoka already had things to write, was already generating ideas and solutions just by discussing Yaku’s brief presence in the reception room a few short minutes ago. I concurred, nodding my head at his question. “Then the issue isn’t a matter of friendship,” Madoka confirmed with a pleased smile. He moved on. “Where is Kuroo?”

A nauseated feeling built up in the pit of my stomach and must’ve showed in my face. Madoka scratched a few notes and dropped his smile. More than once, I opened my mouth to speak, but every time I tried I only felt sicker until I had to physically hold myself together, wrapping my arms around my stomach. I settled for a vague, “I don’t know…”

“He is the problem,” Madoka deduced, writing that down at half the speed he’d written his other notes. He seemed almost scared to ask. “What’s happened between you two?” 

“I-I…” could feel that telltale tightness of the chest before either crying or vomiting, and I couldn’t tell which it would be. “I don’t know anything about him anymore.” 

Leaning forward, he placed a hand on my knee, looking up underneath my hair to see my eyes, narrowed to prevent the falling of tears. He could feel me shaking. “Start from the top,” he suggested, feeling a new wave of determination inspire him to help me. He could sense that I was so close to breakthrough, but obstacle after obstacle was put in my way. It was notable, if not amazing, how hard of a time I’d had this the last week alone. 

I swallowed this feeling, as anxious to get to the bottom of this mess as he was. Because beneath it all, I wanted so desperately to feel better. All of this sadness was exhausting. I was so tired all the time, and for what? No, there must be another way. There must be some solution and I had to find it. 

“Some people came to the house for a party and I stayed upstairs with Hinata and his… boyfriend, I guess. He’s kind of scary.” Madoka listened closely, silently astonished at my sharing. He wouldn’t dare acknowledge it, though, for fear of spooking me and losing my cooperation. “Once all the people came, Kuroo sounded so happy and I felt _really_ sick,” I went on, suddenly getting quiet and trailing my words. “I went downstairs because I wanted to try and be social and that’s when I saw them.”

Madoka stopped writing. “Saw who?”

“Kuroo and Oikawa. In a closet… on the floor.”

His eyes widened with understanding. “I see.” he wrote that down. 

I let out a shaky sigh, sucking it back in through my nose. The same boiling, agitated heat rose up within me as I recalled the exact moment I saw them. “I stayed downstairs because another member of the team said he missed me,” I said, moving on before I dwelled for too long on the look in Oikawa’s eyes. Madoka’s smile came through once again, bending his moustache upward at the corners. 

“That’s nice of him to say,” he pointed out, “how did you feel when he told you this?”

“H-Happier,” I admitted to both Madoka and myself. I guess Lev had finally managed to make me happy. Then I remembered what had happened to Lev, and froze over again. “But Kuroo was really mad. And I-I said some things to him that I didn’t mean.”

“Like what?”

“I-It was very unlike me, I’m sorry. I…” I trailed off. Feeling the acidity of guilt rise up in my throat. Madoka encouraged me, reminded me of this office’s confidentiality policy as if he thought I’d said something obscene or illegal. It was neither of those things, just very _unseemly._ “I asked if he had someone else to tend to,” I admitted, “...again.” 

“Again?”

“He’s been with the boy in the closet before.”

Madoka was writing furiously now, not just words but drawings, charts, and connecting different notes with lines and arrows. “Did you know this before you arrived in Miyako?” he asked, still writing. 

“No,” I replied, getting antsy. I occasionally stole a glance or two at his notebook but I couldn’t make out a single word. It almost looked like doctors wrote badly for this exact reason. “He smokes too,” I added to my list of new discoveries, “and gets really violent sometimes.”

“Violent how?”

“I got locked in the closet with Lev and Kuroo almost strangled him.”

Madoka’s pen froze.

“Everyone saw my bandages…”

Coming up from his notes, Madoka sent me a cryptic look, staring for a long moment. I diverted my eyes. 

“Forgive my bluntness,” he said after a stretch of uncomfortable silence, “but you were forced into the closet with someone to play seven minutes in heaven, and upon realizing what had happened, Kuroo strangled the boy involved with all that?” I nodded, locking my jaw to keep everything in. Madoka could see the energy it took to keep calm shivering out of me, and felt the need for some encouragement. “You’re doing wonderfully, Kenma. I’ve come to several conclusions.”

“What are they?” I asked, voice thin and unsure. God, I was terrified, scared out of my mind that he’d say that I was done for, that there was no hope for me. But I had to know, for the sake of closure. I watched as Madoka sat up straight, ready to give his responses. He began, sure and confident in his conclusions. 

“Most importantly, Kuroo is very very protective of you,” he stated clearly. I sat up a just a smidgen. “And he’s _very_ jealous of your man from the closet.” Tidal waves of protest crested and crashed in my mind, building up in my mouth, wanting so badly to pour out and clear away misconceptions. But Madoka hadn’t paused for me to speak. “In addition,” he continued, “you are also very jealous, of Oikawa to be exact.”

“But--” I was silenced by a raised hand telling me to wait. 

“Next, you’re very upset that there are things you don’t know about Kuroo. Even though you’ve spent some time apart, you’ve spent a great deal of time together as of late, when he could’ve told you everything, but he didn’t. You want to know why he didn’t tell you.”

Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes! We’d spent hours in comfortable and pleasant silence. All day and all night on more than one occasion, we were wasting time making up for the loss. But he didn’t even think to mention Oikawa or the smoking. I wasn’t even sure I remembered him directly telling me about his orientational sensibilities at all. He’d just seemed like the type of person to not care as long as they were with someone and it was exciting. 

“I thought we told each other everything,” I fretted, “I’ve told him everything.”

“No you haven’t,” Madoka sharply disagreed. “You haven’t told him how you feel about him, that much I know for sure.”

“I-I...” 

He leaned forward in his chair, breathing out through his nose in the way that most men did when about to say something important, whether it be wise, funny, or foolish. I, at a loss for all words, just kept my mouth shut. It was amazing how much better he knew me than my own self. 

“You have to tell him how you feel, Kenma,” he deadpanned, “These feelings will never go away. They will eat at you and eat at you and nothing will make them stop unless you talk to him. If you run away, if you let him go, it will haunt you for the rest of your days.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in until my arms started to shake. “Now what are you going to do?” he asked. And honestly, I didn’t know.

* * *

Sitting on the balcony, Kuroo watched as birds built themselves a new home in a tree nearby. Summer breezes whispered through the trees and bushes, made the grass dance and sway with the wind. It was a lovely day, perfect weather for the beach, or at least to sit outside and enjoy the sun. But this was not a happy day for Kuroo. He held his head in his hands, idly fiddling with looser tangles of hair, even undoing a few of the knots on accident. He watched the birds to take his mind off everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He’d somehow managed to make some sort of amends with me, then directly after regaining some trust, he got himself estranged once again. His chest tightened at the idea that it might be once and for all. 

While I was working through the horrors Kuroo had just put me through, it was Kuroo’s job to wait for Mom to arrive and, in all likelihood, she would look up at him with that _I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed_ look that made him sick to his stomach. It was too late to apologize, he knew that much. All he could do now was wait and bare the consequences. 

He heard the door open quietly, tensing to stand and greet whomever it was, but that was a bad idea, so he slumped his shoulders instead. Two sets of footsteps climbed the stairs then diverged, one set heading into my room, and the other towards Kuroo’s. The balcony door slid open, and Hinata appeared beside him. 

Hinata started, “Uh… Hey.”

“What it is,” Kuroo replied flatly, eyes gazing at the birds in the tree without really seeing them. He listened to Hinata cautiously take a seat beside him, sitting just within his peripheral vision. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, not entirely sure how to go about conversing with Kuroo. They never really entertained each other for very long until now. Kuroo shrugged.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” he admitted, drawing Hinata’s attention. 

“Seriously?” he snapped, “You planned to lock him in a closet with _Lev?_ Kuroo, that’s--”

“Cool it, kid,” Kuroo interrupted, offended that he would even think so badly of him. “I wasn’t a part of any of that. I just knew that Kenma and I wouldn’t really last as friends.” Having shot up in his chair, ready to give Kuroo a piece of his mind for being so stupid, Hinata had to let out a breath to relax and listen. “I knew there was something different about him,” Kuroo went on, “He was gonna do great things. I know I’m an idiot and I knew it was only a matter of time before he figured that out for himself--”

“Oh, he’s always known that much,” Hinata added before he knew what he was saying. He groaned at his own brashness and urged Kuroo to forget that and go on. But it managed to turn up the corners of his lips, knowing that I chose to be his friend despite his obvious lack of thoughtfulness.

Kuroo sat up and back in his chair, blowing out all the stress and confusion that had been building up in his chest. Hinata sat quietly for the most part, listening intently. Hearing Kuroo’s side of the story widened his eyes, brought forth a new angle of understanding that inspired such rapture within him. Kuroo continued, venting the thoughts that he’d held in for years now, since Hinata seemed to be more than willing to listen. 

“I knew he’d leave eventually, go and do something important, something life changing and innovative. I knew, but I still wasn’t ready when he just… disappeared one day… Bawled my fucking eyes out when it hit me. He was never coming back.”

“But he did come back,” Hinata interjected, big brown eyes going sad and heavy. Kuroo dragged his gaze down and up to Hinata’s face, challenging that phrase with a simple look. Hinata scoffed, “Well he _did._ You get what I’m trying to say.”

“I guess.” Kuroo went back to watching the birds. 

“Look,” Hinata sighed, “don’t tell him I told you this, okay?” Kuroo looked his way for a moment, then nodded. “Kenma cares about you more than I’ve ever seen before.” Kuroo huffed a disbelieving snort of laughter, face contorting into a half smile half scowl. Hinata let out another breathy sigh, sitting heavily in his seat. “And you don’t believe me, do you?”

“Not a chance.”

“God, you’re dense,” Hinata grumbled, getting even more frustrated at Kuroo’s accepting shrug. “Can’t you see it?” he pressed, angling himself in his chair to look straight into Kuroo’s eyes, “He can’t even speak to _me_ without knowing you’re there. I know you saw us that day in the market. You think he’d ever do that if he wasn’t here right now? In Miyako with you?”

“Well no, but--”

“And he risked his _privacy_ coming down those stairs! Of course he knew everyone would freak out, he’s as elusive as a ghost!” Impassioned words rose to higher pitches in Hinata’s throat. His eyes were wide, gaze steadfast and unwavering. He definitely had Kuroo’s undivided attention, if anything, he was vaguely unnerved with Hinata’s certainty. He definitely knew what he was talking about. 

“Seeing you dry humping Oikawa was something he couldn’t even believe,” Hinata deadpanned, at the climax of his speech, “and it broke his heart.” 

Short, scathing, and to the point. Kuroo took a beat of silence for recovery. 

“But Oikawa doesn’t mean--”

“He doesn’t know what the difference is. He saw you and thought you might have something with Oikawa, that he might be more important to you than Kenma is.” Kuroo shot up in defensive protest, nearly rocketing out of his chair, but he just barely held it together to hear out the end of Hinata’s thought. “Kenma can’t live in a world where someone outshines him in your eyes. He already thinks he’s outshone everywhere else, he can’t be without you too.”

It was coming together slowly but surely, forming blurry connections in Kuroo’s mind, who had to tune out for a moment to focus on comprehending the lengths I’d gone to in the past few weeks alone. He couldn’t begin to apply them to how I was in school. 

“Shit…” he whispered. Hinata nodded his agreement, silently pleased that Kuroo was starting to get it. 

“Neither can you apparently,” he added, “You roughed Lev up pretty bad. I mean, I would’ve done the same thing, but you had it more than covered.” Hinata raised his eyebrows, nodding off his implied _yikes_. Kuroo grumbled something unintelligible, frowning at Lev’s general creepiness. 

“Sometimes I don’t like his vibe.” Kuroo shrugged. “Tall man’s intuition.” 

Hinata swatted the side of his head. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hinata grumbled, “You’re jealous and possessive. I see it every day.” Kuroo snorted stubborn disagreement and Hinata waved it off, deciding to leave that alone for now. “Look, the point is, neither of you can function alone and you have to tell him before he disappears completely. You and I both know he won’t survive the next time he’s suicidal. Third time’s a charm.”

“Fuck,” Kuroo sighed, closing his eyes. He remembered someone telling him about my first attempt but hadn’t taken it seriously or even really paid attention. This trip symbolized my hopeful recovery from my second attempt. My third attempt would not fail. 

He stood from his chair, standing over Hinata, looking so much bigger than Hinata could ever hope to be. Firm, yet understanding eyes watched as Kuroo turned toward the door to my room just on the other side of the balcony. He chose to go the long way, through his bedroom. “Okay,” he decided, “I have to talk to him.”

Hinata smiled. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

And he did, with trepidation that was duly noted, make his way to the door. But he stopped within the threshold between the balcony and the house, letting out a cleansing sigh. Hinata hummed, confused when Kuroo turned back to him. 

“But first,” he briefly changed the subject, and Hinata was interested until he saw the look on Kuroo’s face. The sheer self-satisfied smugness was enough to make Hinata roll his eyes so hard it left an ache in his skull. 

“The setter? Really?”

“Oh, shut your face.”

“I mean I’m not saying, I’m just saying--”

“Just go already!” 

“Alright, alright!” Some of that cocky spark shined through, and for a split second Kuroo felt more like himself. The smile on his face visibly lifted his spirits. “Thanks, Shouyou,” he saluted, allowing Hinata to witness a rare and genuine smile. Hinata thought nothing of it, waving Kuroo onward with a grin of his own. And with that, Kuroo departed, on his way to meet with me, to stop me from running away for good.


	12. Left Hook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dream a little dream plays ominously in the distance...*
> 
> (update: 28/04/16 marks hit number 666 (x )

Setting down another heavy suitcase in the center of the living room, I paused for a moment to huff and puff. Only half of what I’d brought to Miyako was downstairs and ready to go. Which meant I had four more trips up and down those stairs. Just looking at them made me groan, exasperated by the very idea of even moving. I looked back down at my suitcases, remembering the promise I’d made to Madoka. I told him I’d talk to Kuroo. But how could I? The more I thought about it, the stupider it seemed. Kuroo was much better off without me. Even thinking for a moment that he would not be was selfish. 

I let out a stubborn huff, casting my eyes down and turning back to the stairs to get the rest of my things and leave this island forever. But right as I’d just made it into the hall that led to the front foyer and the stairs, I smacked into a wall of sweaty cotton and messy hair. 

“Kenma, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, trepidatious but determined to get something out in the open. Whatever it was pressed at the forefront of his mind. The gold of his eyes seemed to churn, stirred up by pressure and urgency. Even his hands came to play and fight with each other. 

It wasn’t long before all this eye contact became too hot. Laser focus burning right into my brain had me looking away, ducking into the living room for escape. “I have to pack,” I excused. But a hand caught my wrist, pulling me back towards Kuroo and effectively lurching my heart into my throat. I spun and hit his chest in my rapid approach, rebounding backwards to stand unsteadily with a foot of air between us. 

“I have to tell you something,” he announced, voice edged with a torn hesitance, but he was as even and confident as he could be. 

My mind spun off in hundreds of different directions, all airing on the side of cautious negativity. I stood completely frozen, craning my neck to stare wide and shocked as I overanalyzed all of the worst case scenarios. Just last night he’d been kissing on Oikawa, smoking cigarettes, and beating the absolute daylights out of Lev. Never in my life had I _ever_ seen Kuroo in such a state. And now, maybe he wanted to tell me what had happened from his perspective. Maybe he wanted to yell at me for being so passive. Maybe he wanted to _hurt_ me for being so passive. I’d embarrassed him after all, more than once. 

A dissonant feeling overtook me, making me want to run away but also making me want to stay and listen. I wanted so badly to know about him, this whole new and disconcerting side of him that I’d never seen before. I wanted to know. I wanted to be able to say I knew everything about him like I used to. But there would be a price: my time, and my secrets. 

“I should’ve told you this a long time ago…” Kuroo started, but the longer I stared, quiet and absent from reality, the faster he lost his nerve. He hummed to fill the silence, dropping his eyes to the bottom corners of his vision. The couch came into view, offering itself up as a comfortable segway into serious, provoking conversation. “Let’s just…” he half suggested, making a dive for the couch. My gaze followed but I never quite registered that he wanted to move to the couch. I stood in unfocused reverie for an awkward stretch of silence before jolting back to consciousness with a shiver. I reawakened to an insistent stare making the side of my head smoke. Kuroo diverted his eyes. 

My feet moved before the rest of me had the chance to cast its vote. I wandered over to the opposite corner of the couch, a full sofa cushion of separation between us. But I would stay, and I would listen. 

“Look, I know I should’ve told you this ages ago but…”

_But I’ve never liked you, just felt sorry for you._

_But you ruined my summer._

_But you’re the worst friend in existence and you were never a good setter._

“It’s okay if you don’t want to come back.”

Have you ever so thoroughly misunderstood something that you leave your body in attempt to understand the gravity of your naive stupidness? I have. I gaped, jaw hitting the floor as I tried to figure out where I went wrong. How did I even come to such incorrect conclusions? I mean, they weren’t incorrect, he wanted me gone. But he was so polite about it, it threw me for a loop. 

Kuroo noticed as my expectations were rapidly shot down. A hand came up to nervously rub at the back of his neck as he explained himself. 

“Look, I know you hated playing volleyball with us,” he said, “I know you think I made you do it so you could get socialized. But the truth is, I knew there would be a day when you wouldn’t want me anymore. You’re smarter than me, going to better places. I just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before you realized.”

I forced myself to watch as he became very uncomfortable. The even confidence of his voice wavered into uncertainty. 

“A-And I want you to know that I’m okay with it. I mean, I don’t want you to go, ever. But if it’s what you want, Kenma, if it makes you happy, then I want you to go and forget all about me. Even if we never speak again, I’d rather you be comfortable enough with yourself that you can wear whatever the fuck you want, do whatever the fuck you wanna do, than feel like you can’t because of me. I don’t… I don’t want to--”

_Drag you down…_

Crawling across the couch, I made my way to him and settled deep into his arms. His heart was beating so fast, thumping hard against his ribs and right into my ear. He let out a deep sigh of relief, somehow convinced that even after saying such things to me that I’d run away. Or _reject_ him. I had no idea that he was as scared to lose me as I was to lose him. 

“There’ll always be a Kenma-shaped hole,” he assured quietly right into my hair, “just in case you wanna come back.” I burrowed in deeper, getting comfortable enough to never ever leave. A new type of tranquility pervaded every corner of my being, relaxing every panic that tried to work it’s way to the front of my thoughts. Well, almost every one. 

“Kuroo, I have something to tell you too.” I had to take a breath to keep an embarrassed blush at bay. My problems seemed so selfish now. As much as I wanted to bury them, it was only fair to tell him what had been nagging on my mind. “You make me so h-happy,” I whimpered, hating the small crack in my voice, “a-and I wanted you to be happy, so I left. Because you seemed so much happier without me. Happier with Tooru and the team…” 

“Okay,” Kuroo interrupted, all the quiet softness taken out and switched for blunt honesty, “Tooru doesn’t mean _that_ to me. I mean, whatever you think happened, yes, it’s probably true. But it isn’t like that anymore. We’re just friends. And while we’re on the subject of last night, I should probably come clean about smoking. I quit though, for the most part. Last night was just hard for me to get through.”

Sitting in a cold puddle of shame and embarrassment, I came to terms with the fact that I overreacted. I misjudged the situation-- which, in my defense, was questionable to say the least-- and assumed the absolute worse. Kuroo was willing to work with me, explain all the uncertainties that I had on the matter. But I had none. I was certain. Certain that I was the bad guy. 

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled sheepishly. That dark cloud materialized overhead and Kuroo saw it. 

“Hey, hey, it isn’t your fault Kenma. It’s never your fault.” His arms hugged me tighter, squeezing the negative energy out and replacing it with warmth and safety. I pressed the palm of my hand right over his heart, feeling it work against my skin. 

“I miss you, Kuroo. I miss you so much it hurts. And I’m sorry I cause so many problems,” I sighed quietly. I could feel the protest building up in his chest. But I had already organized my arguments. “I almost died. I ruined your vacation. I overdosed on my medication. I _kissed_ you. I thought it was you in the closet because I was sleepy and not paying attention and it might’ve been fine if it was because you’re the only person in the whole world who wouldn’t hurt me and I love you so much and--”

Out of nowhere, he pressed a ghostly, barely-there peck to my lips and every muscle I had tensed to sharp, shocked pain. I inhaled sharply through my nose and widened my eyes. And we hovered there for a fleeting moment. 

Lingering there for a beat longer than either of us thought, Kuroo sat back against the couch with an apologetic look on his face. He even seemed kind of scared, peering into my eyes and seeing nothing at all. 

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Some of the color drained from his face.

But just as he accepted his fate, I found myself rising up to reclaim his lips. It surprised him, and I assumed that he was unaccustomed to such soft hesitance, but it was all I had to offer. He threw caution to the wind, careful in kissing me back. One of his hands yanked out from under me, replacing at the juncture between my throat and jawline. I gasped, involuntarily clawing at his shoulders at the mere thought of thoroughly ruining the moment by brash, conforming misunderstanding. But he held me close and tight, making sure to convey the utmost sincerity. 

Breaking free to catch our breath, we glued our foreheads together, dwelling on the shift in tides from just this morning to now. Jolts of fluttering warmth, like a congregation of butterflies with fiery wings, spread through my stomach and into my chest. It made my muscles ache, unused to reacting to brand new longings cropping up in my brain. 

“Sorry, I should’ve asked you first,” Kuroo disclaimed quietly. And that sugary sweet fluttering feeling intensified tenfold, making my hands constrict their hold on him. 

“It’s fine.”

“No, I know you’re not into this stuff--”

“Kuroo,” I had to interrupt, the smallest tendrils of fear creeping in, “It’s okay.” I let out a shaky breath, scared of the moment when this would all go away. 

We reconnected for several brief, unsatisfying pecks that left my lips swollen and red. Autopilot had taken over, closing my eyes and letting Kuroo teach me how to derive and provide the most thrill. The pad of his thumb pressed down on the center of my chin, coaxing my mouth open. 

And suddenly, he moved very slow, pulling free high sounds from my chest like he was looking for them. I could tell he’d worked so hard to keep things playful but I could melt in his mouth, meeting each kiss like I needed another. And I did, I really did, even through blindly rolling our tongues and hoping Kuroo knew what to do and I wasn’t too terrible. All this time had passed where I thought I didn’t need this, I didn’t want it. But I’ve never been so wrong. He could taste it, like the warm, molten center of an already soft truffle. And he knew he could spoon it out with relative ease and no resistance. I could only imagine what would’ve happened if I were anyone else but myself. 

Giving me a bittersweet break, he peppered whispering little sweeps along my jaw and down my throat, sucking little pink welts into my skin as he went. A particularly enthusiastic nip at my throat ripped up a harried hum, a stifled groan that I could barely rein in. I wasn’t even aware of my ability to make a sound like that, and judging by how slowly and deliberately Kuroo placed his lips, he was just as surprised as I was and was determined to hear it again. 

“N-No marks, no marks,” I whined, hands migrating up to squeeze handfuls of unruly black hair to contain the shivers shooting down my spine. 

“Shit,” I hissed, toes curling and fingers yanking at Kuroo’s hair. He growled low in his chest, scaring a sharp gasp from mine but soothed it away with his tongue lapping along my throat. Trembling hard, a strained “F-Fuck--” oozed out between clenched teeth. And with no warnings at all, I was falling backward to lie flat on my back, buried in the couch cushions and compelled to look into rapacious honeyed eyes. 

Then the front door swung open.

“Kenma! I’m--” a charming voice of a tired, but cheerful woman called into the house. But she stopped short, her footsteps freezing in the mouth of the living room. 

Mom’s here.

* * *

_Mom was many things, but she wasn’t one to be messed with. She wore a bright, trusting smile, but lurking just underneath was an intense motherly instinct to protect and defend. Upon receiving a worried call from Hinata, she’d thrown a handful of clothing into a bad and rushed out the door. But as soon as she made it outside, she was hit with that sick, churning feeling of betrayal of trust. She trusted that Kuroo would be able to handle watching me for a few weeks. I wasn’t a particularly difficult person to take care of. She specifically told him no parties and he couldn’t even adhere to that! Concerned that she wouldn’t be able to address this lapse in maturity from someone other than her own son, she took a hard right and knocked on the door of our next door neighbor._

“Kenma I--” She’d hurried into the house, wanting nothing more than to put her eyes on me, access my vitals, just make sure I was okay. But she was met with a particularly disheveled Kuroo, blushed up and leaning over something-- or more likely someone-- stretched out on the couch. 

After a stunned silence and a long hard stare, Kuroo practically sang, “Mama-san! You’re here! How wonderful to see you!” 

“Where’s Kenma,” she asked flatly, her shock fading away to knowing irritation. She thought she knew exactly where I was; out on the terrace or holed up in my bedroom. She wanted Kuroo to take her there so she could force us to talk. 

Having slapped a hand down over my mouth to muffle any whimpers of anxiety that might’ve escaped me, Kuroo had planned on leading her astray and coming up with some excuse as to where I was, giving me the option of telling her or not. But he was caught, sighing a defeated sigh and letting me sit up. 

Watching a head of pudding-colored hair pop up slowly from the couch, the frustration that pinched up Mom’s face loosened into absolute horror. The pink blush invading my cheeks turned red as she suddenly forgot who Kuroo was. All she saw was someone putting me in a rather precarious situation. She tensed, ready to claw out his eyes, and I think Kuroo saw it too as the false cheeriness in his expression switched to fear. But someone saved his life.

“Surprise bitch! Where’s my baby?!” 

A woman two or three inches taller than I was burst into the living room with wide, welcoming arms. Where my mom had worn a yellow sundress, looking generally put together, this woman looked to have just rolled out of bed, still wearing sweats and an old wifebeater. But her most definable traits were her sassy bronze eyes and a dark tangled mess of hair that fell just below her shoulders. 

“Mom?” Kuroo questioned like he’d seen a ghost. But she was definitely here, and she could tell exactly what was going on by the fear in our eyes and the fire in Mom’s. 

“Yo, what the fuck?” she questioned back, an undiplomatic finger pointing back and forth between the two of us. She wore the famous Kuroo smirk well, having taught it to her son. 

“H-Hi Kuroo-san--,” I greeted politely, realizing halfway that she hated when I called her that, “nn… Naomi. It’s good to see you.” 

“Hey Kenma,” she purred, laughing to herself at how ridiculous we’d all reacted, especially when she’d seen this coming all along. “When are you moving in?” she prodded, watching Mom loosen up as she watched me remain on the couch with Kuroo. If I wasn’t comfortable, she would notice. “Who’s catering the wedding? Will it be close or destination? Chocolate or vanilla? Where are my grandkids?” Naomi rattled off a dozen other rhetorical questions, counting them on her fingers just to prove that she’d put a lot of thought into it. She took pleasure in finally being right, and deep down, I remembered the way she’d acted when I came over, even as kids. She’d known it from the start, and I was starting to feel stupid for not catching on. 

“Mama-san, you told on me?” Kuroo whined, sitting back into the couch with a melodramatic huff, “I’m hurt!”

“Well, you threw a party and I told you not too!” she countered, deciding not to rip his face off just yet. Her arms settled on her hips. She was still vaguely annoyed but in that _boys will be boys_ kind of way. From what she could tell, I was at least physically okay. I’d pushed myself deep into the corner of the couch, hoping to disappear completely, but this was a normal response for me in a deeply humiliating situation. I wondered how much they heard and had to hide my face in my knees just to cope with the shame. 

“Ooh party?” Naomi called from the kitchen, looking for evidence, “is there booze left?” Mom’s eyes threw daggers right through her forehead, and Naomi quickly changed her disposition, “I mean, rawr! Tetsurou, you little shit!” she growled, unable to hide the playful smile that graced her visage. 

“Oh my god,” Mom groaned. And she pushed Naomi further into the kitchen to try and talk her into being a little more hard on us. 

With those two out of the room for now, Kuroo dared to steal a glance in my direction, seeing that dark clouds had condensed over my head. “God, talk about timing,” he started, guessing correctly that I wouldn’t be able to speak if my existence depended on it, “sorry about that, you know how my mom is.” 

_I’m dead. I’m really dead, and this is Hell. What did I do? I thought I lived a pretty okay life. Maybe the whole killing yourself thing is what did it…_

Kuroo sighed, something suddenly becoming clear to him. “Congratulations,” he said from the other side of the couch, “you’re not allowed to leave anymore.” Even the hot, boiling panic in my stomach reduced to a simmer as it gave way to a fog of confusion. Didn’t he just say he’d accept my leaving? He had this dreamily cryptic gleam in his eye as he approached, lifting me off the couch and into his lap. 

“You’re stuck with me,” he announced with a shrug and a shake of the head. “Anyone can tell you, I’m extremely possessive. So I really mean it when I say stuck.”

I couldn’t understand. Such placid content was a highly unusual expression to grace Kuroo’s features, and he wore it well. But it’s meaning wouldn’t place in my mind. I stammered out several variations of “What..?” glancing down at a thumb that cleared away big tears that fell from my eyes. By pure instinct, I turned to bear my cheek down into his palm just enough to be noticeable, but I caught myself, freezing over completely. 

“Kenma,” he very nearly whispered, at the very beginning of some statement that held great importance. All the sudden, my heart was pounding, beating right out of my chest. I couldn’t force myself to meet his gaze any longer. My hands smacked over my eyes, shaking at the effort it took to remain standing. A sinking feeling weighted me, had me leaning against him for support

His voice drew in much closer. His hands drifted over mine, stilling the light tremors that passed through me. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he reassured, brushing rogue strands of hair out of the way. “Open your eyes.” I stubbornly shook my head, and all that hair fell back into my face. 

“No.” 

“How is that fair?”

“It isn’t.”

Silently delighted for some unknown reason, Kuroo smiled. I could feel him coming closer, slowly but surely peeling the edges of my hands free from my face. And I succumbed a little too easily, an abashed flush painting my cheeks a bright, beating red. But I refused to open my eyes. I squeezed them closed with all my might, nothing would ever make them open. That is, until our foreheads met and our noses touched and those violent, terrified shudders started up again. 

“You’re really not gonna give me a chance to say it?” 

More tears quickly and easily defeated the barriers of my eyelids, and they flew open, captured instantly by Kuroo’s as they waited patiently for them to open. When they did, he smiled brightly. “There we go,” he praised. I had to swallow a sizable ball of panic, using a long sigh as ways to at least attempt to calm myself. 

“This isn’t funny.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” 

I thought I would vomit. I _knew_ I would vomit. I had to get away somehow but I was stuck, rooted to this spot by forces unseen, compelled to wait and hear him out. But so much time went by, seconds ticked away in silence, and when I thought I would pull my hair out of my head he finally spoke and ended my suffering. 

“I love you, Kenma,” he said simply, as easy as saying hello, as effortless as brushing away all the tears that poured from my eyes that would stain my skin and turn it pink. But he only smiled, willing me to calmness with gentle prodding and radiant content. Another quick, officiating peck was kept short to spare our moms. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

* * *

Somehow-- most likely Hinata-- word got out to everyone that things were better between Kuroo and I. One by one, the guests from last night trickled in, reconvening in the house and assuming their positions they’d left behind just yesterday. The air was lighter, the sun shone a little brighter. Mom gave a big, excited hug to Yaku, having missed him so much for so long. Oikawa and Iwaizumi seemed to have worked out the several significant indiscretions from last night, as Oikawa seemed cheerful and Iwaizumi seemed less angry at the world. 

“Bokuto, get your ass over here!” Kuroo shouted over the hum of the crowd. A head of grey feathers popped up from behind the island, called to attention. Round eyes stared wide as Kuroo beckoned him. Bokuto went pale at the evil smirk on Kuroo’s face. But still, he came with no resistance, though he did entertain the thought of barreling through the glass doors for escape. But he knew he was in trouble and had to face the consequence. Face to face with Kuroo, displaying nothing but sound respect and grim acceptance, Bokuto waited to be set straight. 

“Oh, I ain’t the one,” Kuroo denied, both of them looked down to me. “Okay Kenma,” Kuroo encouraged me with a gesture. I was still unsure. But Bokuto was ready. He dared to even _relax_ a little now that he knew he wasn’t in for a beat down from Kuroo. And in this moment of offense and realization, I noticed he wasn’t that much taller than me. I’d always felt so small around both Bokuto and Kuroo specifically, but not right now. 

“Lay it on me,” Bokuto gave me his permission, “I can take it.”

“Okay.” With a nonchalant shrug, I pulled back and buried my left fist into the side of his face as hard as I could. And Bokuto landed hard at Kuroo’s feet. 

Dead silence swept over the entire house. 

Then a loud, shocked, testosterone-infused roar swallowed it up. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? DID EVERYONE SEE THAT!?” 

“YOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

“KENMA, WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Naomi offered a low-five as I shook out aching pain from my hand. Nothing was broken, thankfully, but it would bruise over by tomorrow. “You got yourself a _killer_ left hook, there, son-in-law!” Then she jumped back into the commotion to continue screeching with the boys. Bokuto was up and losing his mind, the side of his face turning bright red and throbbing like hell. Kuroo took advantage of the chaos and threw a vase against the wall, sent into hysterics when Oikawa shrieked his adamant disapproval. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Kuroo gaped, sweeping me up off the floor and into his arms. “Where in the everloving fuck were you hiding that?!” he demanded to know, an elated grin overtaking his face. 

“That felt good,” I admitted, allowing myself a shy smile in return. 

“You better treat my baby right, Tetsurou!” Mom called from across the room, forcing Naomi to calm down by trapping her in a chair. “Looks like he’ll be taking you out for me!” 

“Damn right! Holy shit.” He put me back down, seeing that our moms might need to be separated. The shenanigans were getting out of hand. When Naomi was threatened into sitting still and behaving for Mom, he returned. 

“How’re you doing?” Kuroo asked, keeping his words between us. A hand came to rest around my waist like he couldn’t stop touching me. 

“It’s a lot, but I think I’m okay for now.” I could feel him smile, poking his nose into my hair. Just answering a simple question delighted him, and his cheeriness delighted me. I stretched the ache out of my fingers and knuckles, feeling vaguely guilty for hitting Bokuto so hard, but he did deserve it and it was kind of amazing. 

In the belly of quietly celebrating my short fighting streak, Lev wandered up to Kuroo and I with his head hung low. Yaku stood behind him, arms crossed and guns hot just in case this didn’t go according to plan. 

“Kenma-san. I’m--” Taking a page from Madoka’s book, I cut short a rambling apology with a hand. Yaku and Kuroo watched with wary fascination as I flicked my eyes down to the floor then back up to Lev, beckoning him to level with me. He complied very easily, so easily that I noted it and saved that observation for later. Leaning down to match my height, Lev braced for the hit, ready to accept his punishment. 

I stepped forward, out of Kuroo’s arms, and kissed the very top of Lev’s cheek. “I forgive you.”

All three gasped. Yaku and Kuroo exchanged an unbelieving look, darting their eyes back and forth from me to Lev to each other again. And when Lev recovered from the shock and a wide, ecstatic grin spread across his face, a strong arm wrapped tightly around my waist, hoisting me up and away. 

“Now get lost, Vladislav.” Lev scrambled to his feet and back into the kitchen. Yaku followed close behind. Now up in his arms, I could see a strange combination of smugness and fury swirling around in Kuroo’s eyes. I was about to get worried when Naomi stepped up to us, five-staring Kuroo right between the shoulders. 

“Creative,” she nodded, referring to Kuroo’s purposely misnaming Lev. 

“This one’s mine, motherfucker, I’ll still kick your ass!” he called after Lev and Yaku, both he and his mom wore the same cocky smirk. 

“Kuroo, he get’s it,” I reminded. He’d learned the extent of Kuroo’s possessiveness just yesterday and he wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. But Kuroo was unconvinced, shaking his head in disagreement. 

“I think I have to pee on you,” he deadpanned, “to make a statement.”

I squirmed out of his arms, ready to run. “I’ll never talk to you again, Kuroo, I swear to god.” Kuroo grew dramatically sad and Naomi snickered at her son’s incredible stupidness. 

Everyone was happy. Akaashi groaned at Bokuto’s outrageously offensive humor. Yaku threatened Lev’s life under his breath for commenting on how small he was and how well he fit into Lev’s lap. Kageyama said something bitter and Hinata swatted him in the temple. Iwaizumi refused Oikawa’s coddling. And Kuroo would _not stop touching me_. Maybe “happy” wasn’t the best word to use; this was a rather dysfunctional group. Perhaps “getting along” fit a little better. 

“Shit.” Naomi sat deep in her chair, heavy and unladylike just the way she liked it. “When did this become a mild gay orgy?” she asked my Mom under her breath, sending her a sideways simper. Mom’s eyes widened in scandal. She wasn’t even mad, just surprised that Naomi could even say that. But of course she could say that, Kuroo Naomi didn’t care about anything at all. 

“Naomi. Please,” Mom dismissed, trying to look disappointed but the smile on her face could not be stopped. 

Naomi mocked her right back with a dramatic _Mayu. Please,_ and all out grin lighting up her face. She took one glance at all the kids, happy in all their dysfunctionality and differences of opinion. “I think we have to kiss. I feel left out,” she added smugly. 

Mom grumbled. “Why did I invite you?”

“Because of my charm and good looks!” Naomi shrugged. She stood from her chair, standing strong at their end of the living room. “Iwa! Come arm wrestle me, ya little shit!” she challenged. 

Iwaizumi peeled out of Oikawa’s midst in a fraction of a second. The whole house shifted as everyone chose sides. Oikawa and Kuroo stood firm behind Iwaizumi on one side of the kitchen island. Everyone else backed Naomi, as it seemed obvious by the absolutely devious smirk on her face that she would fight dirty and win. Mom and I stood between them, peacefully participating. 

“Alright Iwa-chan, you can do this.”

“Break his fucking wrist!”

“Bokuto, oh my god.”

“Why aren’t _you_ wrestling your mom, Kuroo.”

“She thinks you’re stronger than me or something. She’s delusional, I know. I’m worried.”

“Oh, please. I had to carry your ass until you were NINE. Then I dragged you down the street until you finally manned up and walked on your own two feet.”

And the crowds went wild. Mom and I both grimaced at all the noise. Kuroo stood completely still and glassy eyed for a long moment. And in all the hubbub, Naomi utilized the chaos and slammed the back of Iwaizumi’s hand into the marble countertop with a loud and satisfying _Bang!_ The screaming and obscene victory dances continued. 

When Kuroo’s soul returned to his body, he took one look at me. I had my hands clamped tight over my mouth, desperately trying to hold in hysterical laughter. 

And then I was up on the other end of the counter, having been swept up yet again from the safety of my mother’s side. “That’s better,” Kuroo sighed, kissing me right on the nose. A wandering hand drifted over my rib cage, sending jolts of feather softness to tighten my muscles. With a barely audible gasp, I knew I was in trouble. Moods shifted, and I was in danger. All ten fingertips crawled up my sides and shocked me with sharp and incessant unpleasantness until I was laughing hysterically. 

“Wow, you _are_ still ticklish.”

“Stop! Stop!” I gasped between fits of weepy laughter. I squirmed and wiggled but couldn’t get away. I was trapped between him and the wall, holding on for dear life. “Kuroo! If I fall, I’ll haunt you forever!” 

“Sweet.”

The caterwauling faded to silence as the entire house witnessed with endeared smiles. It had been so long since anyone had heard me laugh this hard. And the void was finally filled.

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr? angstgods.tumblr.com


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